


The Screaming Wind

by Lostintransit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-21 07:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13736532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostintransit/pseuds/Lostintransit
Summary: Torture is the only way to save her. It's also the only way to break her.





	1. Chapter 1

“Draco, I have a present for you.” 

Bellatrix pulled Draco towards the cells, grinning in a way that churned his stomach. She opened the fifth door, and the world dropped away from his feet. She was dead. He had seen her die, hell everyone had seen her die. Harry had thrown unforgivable curses at everyone as Ron struggled to drag him away. Looking at her now, he wasn’t sure if death would have been easier. 

The low light from the hall shimmered from the broken glass across her back as it moved in shallow breaths. 

“How is a nearly dead mudblood a present Bellatrix? Am I to watch her death throes?” 

Her cackling laugh echoed through the room, Hermione’s breath hitched, ever so slightly. 

“No, I had that nasty snake Snape heal her. You have been so down, and you did good in helping to identify Potter.” Her face turned a nasty shade of red, “The Dark Lord agrees you should be rewarded. She is your reward, do with her what you will.” She trailed one lingering finger down my shoulder, “Though I would suggest peeling from her every speck of information about Potter from her first.” 

Mind swirling, Draco responded, his tone light. “If you wish me to pump her for information I will need a wand, and somewhere to be alone. If she really is a present as you say, then I require,” he paused for dramatic effect, “privacy.” 

“But of course,” she cooed, “Remember this though, the Dark Lord has not forgotten your last mistake, someone will be checking in to be sure you are,” her voice turned sharp, “performing as you should be.” 

Draco eyed her, disgust quaking his fingers and curling his toes. He turned back to the limp figure. “But of course.” 

 

Hermione dragged her eyes open. The conversation going on in the doorway of her cell terrified her. Keeping her breathing even she began to observe what she could; the vile smell of feces and urine scared her nose, while the soft whimpers of others floated in. Her thick hair obscured her vision, and listening to Bellatrix gift her away to Malfoy, she dared not move. 

Focusing in on the conversation concerning herself Hermione began to strategize. The clicking of heels, and the swish of a skirt signaled the absence of Bellatrix. Hermione had not heard Malfoy leave, remaining frozen. The sick sound of flesh colliding with stone caused a flinch in Hermione. 

Soft, whispered words reached her ears. “How the hell are you going to get out of this one Draco?” 

A beat, two, three of silence and heavy footfalls moved away from the cell, the door swung closed. 

 

Bellatrix had delivered; a replacement wand from the one that Harry had stolen from him laid across his nightstand. Snatching it up Draco flung a spell across the room, the chest of drawers exploded. Wincing at the destruction, he quickly followed it up with a repairo. When both spells worked well he nodded once and began to dress. Thoughts of Granger had kept Draco tossing in bed until nearly dawn. Peeking a glance through the curtains he found the day nearly over. 

A loud crack from the doorway, brought Draco’s snarl into place before he had even managed to complete this turn. The small elf, small even for elves, cowered away from the snarl. 

Draco did not drop the snarl upon recognizing the elf, simply waited for her to spit out her orders. 

“Mistress Bellatrix gave instructions to be delivered when the young master awoke. May Trissa deliver the instructions now?” the small thing shuddered with each breath, and squeaked through every other word. 

“Well, spit it out then.”  
Trissa squeaked again, eyes flashing up and back down to her feet. “The young master is to visit his prisoner once a day for at least two hours. He must have a n piece of information at least once every three days. Care of personal needs is also left to the young master, with holding food can be a useful torture tool. The young master is to be aware that visits from the Dark Lord’s servants could come at any time, and young master is to be having a new piece of information every three days.” 

Draco's snarl morphed into a blend of a grimace and a sneer. 

"Did Bellatrix arrange a room for my prisoner?" 

Trissa shuddered, "No sir, she gave only instructions before leaving the manor." 

"Go, I am done with you." Draco threw curse at his chest of drawers leaving the destruction as he exited the room. 

Finding an empty room in the manor proved to be a challenge, nearly every empty room housed a different death eater who had been favored by Voldemort. Draco finally stumbled upon a small servant quarters on the top floor. Bare except for dust and a bed so old it could have been an original, Draco nodded at the arrangement. Casting a few silencing spells, as well as the locking spell that could be found on every cell in the basement Draco deemed the room ready for its new resident. After another searching look through the room, Draco placed an alert charm on the door. 

Someone would be checking on Granger, meaning he would have to torture her. He could not bear to end the life of an old man, would have to physically harm the girl who had beat him at everything, best friend of the chosen one, the mudblood who challenged him often enough to form a begrudging respect. The heave of his stomach sent him to the nearest bathroom. 

Dragging a hand across the back of his mouth he stared at his own sickly reflection. What a waste of space. 

 

Hermione limped around the room, ribs screaming with each breath. She had done all she could to open the door, but as bright as she was, without her wand she struggled to perform an alohomora strong enough to break the locking charm. The fact she could hardly breathe didn’t help her in escaping. Her mind whirled as she thought of other options, and how she would need to be ready for when Ron and Harry invariably burst into her cell to free her from Malfoy Manor. She knew they would search every room until they found her. 

During another slow circuit around the room, the door opened. Hermione jumped, startled at the unexpected sound. She landed, her foot sending a spike of pain up her spine, spinning on the opposite foot she found Malfoy, not Ron and Harry as she had expected. His pale skin showed a sickly pallor and a sheen of sweat. Hermione sent a glare that could rival that of Mcgonnagall’s his way. Not even a flinch. 

"Out." Malfoy's wand hand twitched. 

Hermione bit down a retort, smart enough not to antagonize him yet. She exited her small cell, leaving a good meter between them. He glared in return, his eyes devoid of emotion. 

"We are going up." He brought his wand up, flicking it towards her as he spoke. 

Hermione turned and began walking, doing her best to hide her limp, hyperaware of the wand at her back. She passed a few more cells, the sounds and smells causing an immediate gag reflex. Beyond the cells were a small set of rickety stairs that creaked dangerously when she placed a foot on them. Hermione paused, concerned about the safety of the stairs when Malfoy's wand prodded her spine. 

"Fine, stop pushing me!" she hissed under her breath moving up the stairs. 

Four flights of stairs later, Hermione whimpered as she curled an arm to her ribs, struggling to breathe. 

"On the left, last door." 

Hermione trudged to the last door, her ankle had swollen during the trip up the stairs. As she stepped through the tingle of magic caressed her skin. Trapped again. Malfoy followed her in, closing the door behind him. Hermione took a moment to search the room, bare walls, dust caked floor, and a bed so old it looked like it would fall apart from a bad wind formed the entirety of the space. Limping to the bed she sat down and stared up at Malfoy. He met her gaze, an unknown emotion flickering through his eyes. 

His breath hitched, faced paled, and something that seemed almost like fear flashed across his face before he fled the room slamming the door behind. The slam rang in Hermione's ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco paced in the short hallway, back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

Seizing on a moment of surety Draco strode through the door, throwing it open so hard it slammed against the opposite wall. 

Stepping in Draco froze, not understanding the sight his eyes fed his mind. 

Hermione lay on the floor, hair curling wildly away from her face. An arm pulled tight to her chest and a leg stretched out straight, elevated on the edge of the bed. Seconds passed, as he stared at her. He blinked three times before Hermione rolled her head over to look at him. 

“Did you know that there are no pain receptors in the brain?” Hermione questioned hazily, eyes foggy. 

“What?” Draco responded, bewildered. 

“I guess you wouldn’t know, being all down with muggles.” Hermione’s eyes drifted back to the ceiling. 

“What?” Draco repeated. 

“Are you broken?” 

“What?” 

He froze as her words penetrated his haze of confusion. Pain slid through his ribs, her absent-minded words tripped over the question that circled in his mind. 

"You keep repeating yourself." He heard the words as if through a wall. 

Panic surged in the back of his mind, his breathing picking up as it consumed all thoughts before it. Fear followed panic, its ever-faithful companion. His vision blacked out. Vision returned with a sharpening focus on his hand. Delicate fingers curled around his own. Eyes snapping up he found himself much closer to Granger than he had be before blacking out. Draco wrenched himself back, back slamming into the wall in his haste. 

Draco searched her face. No foggy eyes now, only clear, calculating, sharp as rocks brown eyes boring into his own. He scrambled to his feet, Draco ran from the room, slamming the door behind him as if it could erase the last few moments of his life. 

 

Draco fled the house in favor of the empty, freezing gardens. Granger trapped in his attic, and death eaters haunting his basement; chaos reigned. Questions screamed themselves through his mind, drowning out the screaming wind that tugged at his clothes. How had he ended up here? Hiding from everything, contemplating escaping. How far would he have to run to leave this life? Staring up at the manor, Granger crossed his mind. If he ran, she would die, for real this time. No one would be coming to save her, as far as they knew, she was already dead. 

 

A sharp intake of breath; the only sign that Molly Weasley had heard a single broken word her youngest son had said. Eyes forward she watched the charmed knife work its way through the carrots. 

“Mum?” 

Her eye twitched. 

“Mrs. Weasley?” 

A tear streaked down her face, swiping at it quickly Molly turned, gathering the two boys before her tight to her chest. 

“My boys, what happened?” voice thick with emotion as she questioned them. 

Harry curled into the motherly embrace, hugging her tight. She released them, motioning them to sit with her at the table. The dark air of #12 Grimmuald Place accent the dark tale. Ron began, an unknowing mistake, a single word, lead to a chase in the woods. Caught, they did the best they could to disguise Harry. Bellatrix, ready to kill them, had held Hermione hostage when Dobby appeared to save the day. Dobby hadn’t made it out, but then neither had Hermione. When Dobby had loosened the chandelier, Hermione had attempted to run, but Bellatrix would not release her captive easily. That split second it took to for free Hermione to herself proved too much, and the chandelier crushed her. 

Harry took over the tale, the tears running down Ron’s face. Ron and Dobby had pulled Harry away, Dobby taking a knife to the chest in the process. After burying Dobby and ensuring that both guests of the cottage were taken care of Ron and Harry had apparated to the stoop to tell their tale. Together, Molly and her sons wept over the loss of a daughter, friend, champion of good. Together, they mourned. 

 

Draco sipped at his lukewarm tea, low burning fire straining his eyes. No solution had appeared to him. No way around the torture. Granger would never willingly submit to revealing information about Potter or the order. Pain erupted in his chest; he clamped his eyes down hard, forcing away the tears. Crying would not help him now. 

 

A week passed. Hermione could stand on her ankle without shooting pains, though her ribs still reached to each breath. She had scoured every inch of the room, finding nothing to keep her mind busy. About day four she had started to draw in the dust that seemed accumulate each night. Day six found Hermione pacing wildly, something ready to burst. Day seven, things changed. 

Breakfast appeared on its normal tray, oatmeal and a glass of water. The door opened about dinner time, Hermione glanced up, hungry for more than a meal. The lack of mental stimulation, or conversation left an ache to feel human. 

Malfoy stepped through the door after dark. He turned completely to close it, his back tight. Neither spoke a word, tension filling up the small room. Hermione jumped when his fist connected with the door hard enough to echo. He turned to the wall, yet to make eye contact. Three steps, he spun putting his back against the wall and sliding to the floor. Hermione, seated across the room watched in wonder as Malfoy cradled his hand to his chest, curling in on himself. 

Hermione stared at Malfoy, catching the dark purple smear across his left eye, the deep bruise peeking out of the cuff of his dark button-down shirt. Hermione felt a wave of sympathy wash through her, followed quickly by anger and confusion. 

Anger won out, “What do you want Malfoy?” 

His response came by pulling his limbs tighter to his chest, his head sinking further. He murmured something into his knees. 

“What was that?” Hermione spat back in a tasty tone, then gasped when Malfoy pulled his head up. 

A black eye so fresh it only could have been given a few hours ago matched the split lip that seemed ready to burst open again at any moment. Malfoy’s neck sported finger marks, large and wide. 

“I have to torture you, or watch my mother be tortured. I have to choose, you or her.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione stared at him, Malfoy. Draco. This person who had to face another impossible choice. She wondered absently if he knew he was crying. The shock of his words had yet to subside. What had it taken, for this boy, this man, to break down in front of an enemy? Hermione never hated him like Harry or Ron did. Oh, disliked him, absolutely. She often found herself disgusted with him and his choices. She had never let her feelings deride into hatred, hatred lead to only evil. 

She searched his eyes, triggering a ripcord pull of emotions. Hermione floated, swimming through the currents of confusion, sympathy, anger, fear, understanding, horror, acceptance. 

"Oh." 

She watched him, tears still welled in his eyes, his body still taking up as little space as possible. 

"The Order won't leave me here." 

The bitter, ancient laugh rumbled from Draco's chest. "You are dead Granger. Pot Head and Weasel saw you die, no one is coming." 

Hermione jumped up, her hair springing around her face. "You are wrong! They would never leave me here." 

Draco rose too, chest heaving, "You have been here over a week Granger! If they thought you were alive they would already have plans to get you in motion. The fact that the only face you've seen this week is mine proves that they are already mourning your existence! As far as anyone beyond this Manor is aware you are dead and if I don't torture you for information you will soon be as dead as everyone thinks you are!" 

His face paled, the bruises bright against his skin. His features tightened as he caught Hermione staring. He turned to the door, hand on the knob before she could speak. 

"What happened Draco?" 

The quiet words stilled his movement. 

"Not all fathers love and protect," with that Draco stepped into the hall. 

Hermione rushed the door, jamming her fingers between the door and frame before it could close. 

"If you are serious, if everyone who loves me thinks I am dead, I will help you. All I ask is that when the time comes to let me escape you turn the other way," Hermione rushed. 

Draco refused to turn, questioning the air and hoping against hope that she would answer his question, "Why would you help me?" 

"Because abuse is never the fault of the abused." She removed her fingers from the door, the magic snapping it closed, effectively cutting off the conversation. 

 

Draco wandered the family library, fingers skimming spines, lost in thought. How could she mean that the beatings were not his fault? He was the family failure; Father never raised a hand to him when he did as told. Each time her words drifted through his train of thought it deposited another layer of anger. It had to be his fault, why else would Father beat him every time he came in second to Granger? Why else would he be expected to follow the path laid out for him? 

His anger reached a peak and he nearly ran back to the room Granger resided. Throwing open the door he yelled, trusting the silencing spells to hold. 

"It is always my fault! He only does this to me when I fail to rise to his expectations!" 

Hermione had wedged herself onto the small ledge of the window, staring into the distance. She didn't flinch when he started yelling. 

"How old were you when the beatings started?" Came the quiet question. 

Draco froze, his mind unwillingly flicking backwards to his earliest memory of his father. 

"That doesn't matter," he shot back vehemently. 

"I had a friend," Hermione began, never once turning from the window. "We could only have been about seven, maybe younger. My best friend in the whole world, her name was Sarah. Sarah would come and play, to spend the night, to go swimming with my family and always she had these bruises. Deep, dark, painful bruises. I asked her about them once, she hit me. My best friend, who cried for the bullies, who couldn’t play cops and robbers because it was too violent for her hit me straight across the face." 

She took a deep breath, her shoulders quivering. "I talked to my parents about it then. Told them about the bruises, that Sarah hated spending time at home with her father, how she had hit me when I asked about it. I remember the look they shared before my mother called the police. They took Sarah away, and I never saw her again." She shifted, Draco catching sight of the tears. She continued, "I sobbed for days, I had made my best friend disappear. When I finally calmed down enough my parents explained to me about abuse. At seven years old I learned that some parents will hit their children, hit them so hard they break bones. I researched it then, hiding the books I borrowed from the library to understand why any parent would want to hurt their child. I learned that parents tell their children that it is their fault, 'I wouldn't hit you if you would just do as you're told.' I learned that abusers lie." 

She laughed, the hollow sound echoing inside Draco, who had yet to move from the doorway. "Coward that I am, I avoided you after I saw the signs. Eleven years old and I couldn't bear to make another friend who would disappear. Then the hatred between you and the boys grew, your taunts and insults burying the knowledge I had of your abuse." She looked at him now, gaze piercing his soul. "I will help you Draco, as penance for my cowardice." 

Draco backed out of the room, door slamming behind him as he vomited in the hallway, throat screaming from the motion. He stood, quaking before her door for a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

The following morning dawned, clear and bright. Draco dressed quickly, a simple high collared long sleeve shirt to cover the majority of his bruises. He father expected him, Granger in tow, by ten am in the library, or his choice would be made for him. A feather of fear slid down his spine. 

Draco strode through the doors with all the grace his extensive practice could afford him. Facing his father, Draco knew that any crack of emotion would be seized upon and wielded as a weapon against him. Not knowing what to expect made it that much harder to hold onto his composure when he sighted Granger sitting cross legged on the thick rug before his father. Her hair sprang in wild curls off her head despite the dust coating her completely. 

She did not turn when the door opened. Lucius flicked his gaze upwards towards his son, a sneer spilling onto his face. 

His voice boomed outwards, "Draco, thank you for joining us!" 

Inwardly Draco cursed, his alert spell must have faded he hadn't been warned that someone had entered Hermione's room. 

"I came as requested Father," the word stung crossing his split lip. 

"You came perfectly on time, how prompt of you. Well come now, prove your dedication to the cause," Lucius requested. 

Slight movement behind his father pulled Draco's vision to his mother, reclining in an arm chair. Bile flooded his stomach as he made eye contact. Her slim face held no emotion, not that he expected any. She nodded minutely, and a weight fell from his chest, she knew that this was not his choice. 

Dragging his vision back to his father Draco strengthened his resolve. He pushed forward, stepping around Granger, watching for the flinch he expected. She did not respond, at all. He circled her, stopping next his father. Granger had disappeared, in her place kneeled a woman whose glare rivaled that of any he had received. 

Lucius began the interrogation, "Where is Harry Potter?" 

Granger held her gaze, eyes never leaving knee level. "Not here." 

Lucius struck her across the face. She slid off her knees, then pushed herself back up, never raising her gaze. 

"Where is the Order?" He spat at her. 

"Somewhere dark and dreary." 

Lucius struck her the other way, both cheeks flaming from the strikes. 

"I will ask you once more, where is Harry Potter?" The growl in his voice set the hairs on Draco's arms raising. 

"Knowing Harry probably somewhere dangerous." 

Lucius snapped his teeth together. "Draco, I want you to show Ms. Granger a spell to loosen her tongue." 

Draco swallowed down a wince, pulling his wand from a pocket. He readied himself, throwing a quck glance at Granger, shocked to see her meeting his gaze. She shifted her head downward once, giving him permission. 

"Crucio!" 

The spell shot from his wand, Granger screaming as it connected. 

Two hours passed like this, question from Lucius, non-answers from Granger, and Draco crucio-ing for each belligerent answer. As Lucius called for Trissa to take Granger back to her room Draco's face dripped with sweat. 

He flinched when his father's hand landed on his shoulder. "You did well Draco. I knew you would not be one to shirk your duties twice." 

Draco watched the hem of Lucius cloak flick through the door, vomiting into a nearby vase as soon as the door slammed closed. Immediately Nausicaa rose to comfort him, hand stroking his hair from his face. 

"Hush, oh you did well Draco. So well," she crooned to him, softly rubbing his back. 

When Draco's stomach finally emptied he stood up straight, his mother's hands falling away. He turned to her, realizing that he had finally pasted her in height. He wondered when it happened. They watched each other. 

"I wish, with everything inside of me that I could have taken you away from this. If I could I would save you from becoming a monster like your father." Nausicaa stretched up on her toes, kissing his cheek before she left the room. 

 

Draco avoided everyone for the rest of day, dividing his time between reapplying spells the Granger's cell and haunting the back hallways of the manor. Dark had fallen over the windows when Draco returned one finally time to Granger's door. A sharp knock from the inside of the door caused him to jump, curse, and glare at the door in that order. 

He opened it, frowning when he searched the room and didn't find Granger. A light tug at the hem of his cloak caused him to repeat his earlier actions. 

"Why in the bloody hell are you sitting in front of the door Granger?" He growled down at her. 

She grinned up at him, all traces of the warrior who can take a hit gone. "I happened to be waiting for you," her face sobered as she continued, "I knew you would be feeling sorry for yourself. I forgive you, by the way." 

With that she stood up, moving further into the room. 

"My mother thinks I'm a monster." 

Draco cringed as the words escaped his mouth. The thought had circled in his head all day, but it didn't need to be said. Hermione paused, looked over her shoulder at him, face blank. 

"Do you think you are a monster?" 

She asked it so simply, voicing the fear that taunted him. She watched him for a moment, before turning back to the bed. 

"Yes," Draco whispered. 

"Good," came the immediate reply. 

"What?" He retorted, how could she say that? The Gryffindor princess, who saw good in everyone, condemned him to his fate. 

He looked up, finding her perched on the bed. She made eye contact, a strange look crossing her face. "Real monsters don't acknowledge that they are monstrous." 

Draco took a step forward, the still open door snapping shut behind him as he slid to the floor. His hands found his face as he stared into the darkness he found between his fingers. The hysterical laugh started out of now where, building until his chest heaved. Hermione peeled his fingers from his face, her lips moving slowly though he could not hear her. As his brain began to scream for oxygen sound began to filter back. 

"Breathe with me, in," a small pause, "out." 

She continued, repeating the same phrase until he could breathe normally again. 

His rational brain kicked in again, while staring at the hands wrapped around his wrists, so close to his dark mark. Draco jerked upwards, pulling his hands back viciously. 

"Don't touch me, you filthy mudblood!" 

He wrenched the door open, running to his room. An ache in his chest, the waring of ideals, kept him awake all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am almost through writing this fic, though it will only update once a week until I finish writing and editing it. After that is all done I will post it all for you. Thoughts are welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning followed the same pattern, Lucius firing question after question at Hermione and Hermione with her non-answers being hit with a crucio from Draco. Two hours had passed when Lucius stormed from the room with his usual flare. Hermione lay, crumpled on the rug, clutching her ribs. 

Draco called for Trissa, the small creature appearing with a crack. 

He pointed with his chin as he moved to shelf lined walls, "Take her back to her room." 

A loud crack signaled their departure. Draco spent the next hour fighting through his emotions as he searched the library. They sucked at him like a riptide, Draco twice found himself curled in a ball, tears streaming down his face, unsure of how he had gotten there. Finally, he found it, her favorite book. Anyone with two eyes and six years of forced interactions would know that it was her favorite, Hogwarts, a history. With a quick resizing spell Draco dropped it into his pocket. 

Draco hurried from the library, Mother expected him to be washed and dressed for company. Despite housing Voldemort and his death eaters, his mother refused to be reclusive. She would often host families of other death eaters, their wives and children invited for a night of small talk and finger foods. 

Draco fingered the small book in his pocket, intrusive thoughts of Granger sneaking in throughout the evening. The story of her missing friend, her adamant statement that the abuse, the overwhelming sense of relief he could feel by stepping into her room. He froze, unaware that the smirk on his face as he listened to Pansy's story had taken on a brittle edge. The hand on his arm drew him back into the conversation. 

The guests his mother had invited finally trickled from Manor, and Draco headed to bed. Stripping from his clothes, he heard a soft clunk. Digging out the small book Draco tossed it on the bed. Donning a thin robe over his night clothes Draco ascended to the fourth floor. A light touch on the door opened it inwards, a pale shimmer of moonlight illuminating the space. A sniffing sound helped Draco locate Hermione in the darkness. 

He found her sprawled across the sagging bed, elbow thrown over her eyes. 

"Granger?" 

She made a sound deep in her throat, "Can we not do this right now Malfoy?" 

"Do what Granger?" He replied quietly, slowly stepping closer. 

"This back and forth where I invariably end up depressed and you slam the door on the way out," her breath hitched once before she forced it back into a normal pattern. 

"Does it always have to be like that?" Draco's heart jumped to his throat. 

She didn't reply, only sniffed once, never removing the arm from her eyes. 

Draco mouthed the reverse spell on the book he had taken from the library. With no space on the bed beside her he placed the book across her stomach. 

The darkness emboldened him, comforted him. "Malfoy's never apologize," a touch of emotion tightening his fingers, "but I think they have been known to show an odd act of kindness once a generation." 

Three quick steps brought him to the door. He pulled it closed quietly behind him. 

 

They say that it takes seven days to create a habit. Mornings began to follow a pattern; torture session with his father in the library followed by a bout of wild emotions and self-accusations. dinner snatched from the kitchen dogging everyone he could. He had not visited Granger since delivering his non-apology. Day eight since her death to the world Draco found himself slipping inside the small room, well into the night. Insomnia had sent him to her, questions that demanded answers could not wait any longer. 

Granger stood at the window, Draco let his eyes drift over her, coated in dirt and grime she looked more like a goblin than the girl he knew. He knocked on the wall to his right, suddenly sheepish. 

"I had a few questions for you, if you are up for it," he rubbed the back of his neck while he awaited a reply. 

She didn't speak, only turning and sitting beneath the window. Draco swallowed, better than he expected. 

He sat down a step closer to her than he had been before. No sounds came from her beyond those of her settling into her position. 

The silence stretched between them as he crafted his questions. 

"Why...were you crying..." He paused, gathering his words, "the last time I visited?" 

Almost glad he couldn't see her expressions he waited for an answer. 

"It was my mother's birthday." 

 

Hermione studied Malfoy, Draco, who sat before her. She had started to call him Draco in her head since she now associated with Lucius on a daily basis. Gaunt cheeks and fading bruises did not flatter him. The dark robe he wore accented the paleness of his complexion. 

He looked sharply to the darkness beneath the window where she sat. Shock passed over his features. 

She could see him forming another question. 

"Is that why you were crying?" He looked down, fingers trailing over a knot in the floorboard. 

"One of the reasons." 

Without looking up he questioned her again, "What happened to them?" 

Hermione took a deep breath, sighing it out through her nose. She told him, how she had charmed herself from their memories, setting up their lives in muggle Australia. She told him that for years she had kept it to herself, staying with the Weasleys during the summers until the war began. How she planned to retrieve them once the light won the war. 

"Do you really think they are going to win?" Draco's voice echoed with an unfathomable ache. 

"I have to believe that they will win, it's all I have left. Well, that, and a book," Hermione could hear the smile in her own voice. 

The hint of shifting muscles on Draco's face made her glad she had said it. 

They sat in darkness and silence long enough that Hermione had begun to doze against the wall when Draco spoke again. 

"Do you think I am evil?" 

Hermione jerked awake, mind scrambling to hold onto the question before sleep dragged it away. 

"I don't think you are evil," she spoke slowly, laying each word carefully. "I think, you have never had a chance to become anything but what you are right now." 

"A death eater, you mean?" Draco laughed dryly. 

"No, I mean a prisoner whose cage is an abusive father," she shot back. 

Draco did not speak for a long time. 

"Thank you for answering my questions." 

He stood, leaving the room as quietly as he had come.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco began visiting her every night. 

One night they argued about pets. 

"Fredrick, my first cat, died of old age." 

Draco sputtered a laugh, "Fredrick? You couldn't even pick an English name for him?" 

Hermione, turning her nose up, "I didn't name him, thank you very much. Though, I did name my first dog Vlad." 

Draco sputtered some more, unable to form words. 

"Hey! I had heard the name somewhere and it stuck with me okay! My parents laughed a bit but indulged me! What about you? What did you name your first pet?" She spat back at him, mildly offended at his near laughter. 

"It was a stray cat I would feed table scraps, I called him Delictus," Draco stretched out, legs nearly touching the bed. 

He glanced at Hermione, her face scrunched up in confusion. "You named your cat Pet?" 

He glared at her, "You're one to talk, Vlad." 

She laughed, and the conversation continued. 

The following night she spoke of her favorite childhood toy. Draco thought of his own, a small wooden dragon from his grandmother. His father had taken it away when he was eight, claiming he was too old for toys. Draco had hidden it under the floorboards of his room after searching the manor for it. 

Saturday night Draco crept in later than normal, detained by Death Eater meetings. Hermione had wedged herself into the window again, she freed herself when he came in. They took their customary places, Draco reclining against the wall and Hermione tucked into the corner beneath the window. They talked so long that as dawn hinted at the sky and Hermione dozed off. Draco stood, a wave of conflict washing through him. Did he cover her with a blanket and leave? Should he just leave? 

After a long moment he turned back, bending down and lifting her into his arms. Dead lifting someone from the floor is hard, despite that he found Granger's weight manageable. It surprised him, how heavy her small body could be. He deposited her on the bed, pulling the thin blanket up and over her shoulders. 

Sunday night found Hermione falling asleep again during their discussions. 

Monday night he found out the reason for the lack of energy. 

Hermione stood when Draco entered the room, pulling away from the window she had been staring out of. She took a step, her expression confused before she crumpled to the ground. 

"What the hell Granger?" Draco exclaimed as he rushed forward to help her up. 

She placed her hand in his without hesitation, something that he knew he would be thinking about for hours to come. She stood up, her hand shaking lightly as she did so. She began to pull away, but Draco trapped her wrist once he realized that she was shaking. She tugged back lightly, weakly. 

His gaze snapped up to hers. "What happened?" He questioned her quietly. 

Tears filled her gaze and Draco felt his spirit sink, Granger wouldn't cry normally. He had only seen it once, after Weasel had hurt her at the Yule Ball. This had to be bad. 

"Your father cut off my food. I haven't eaten in three days," she looked down, seemingly ashamed at this information. 

"He must be getting desperate; Pot Head and Weasel broke into Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts. They got away with something extremely important." Draco's mind swirled, a dark anger swelling inside of him. 

"Draco, let go you are hurting me." 

Draco dropped Hermione's hand like it burned him, ashamed that he had been so caught up his own thoughts he ended up hurting her, even by accident. 

Draco covered his eyes, then quickly ran his fingers through his hair. With a stoke of brilliance he called for Trissa. She appeared, eyes wide with an underlying fear. 

"Yes, master?" 

"Trissa, you belong to me, and not the Malfoy family, correct?" 

Trissa started to quiver, "Yes master." 

"Good, I need you to prepare a light broth and some bread." Turning back to Hermione, he spoke to her again, "I need you to sit down and relax until Trissa comes back." 

Trissa disappeared with a crack. 

"Why did you choose broth and bread?" She sat down on the bed. 

Draco raised a single eyebrow, "You think you are the first person my father has starved to prove a point?" 

"Oh." She searched his face, eyes worried, "How old were you?" 

Draco's hand twitched, they had avoided talking about his family thus far. He looked down, she deserved an answer though. "I was six." 

The gasp that escaped her shouldn't have shocked him or pleased him. You only gasp at the treatment in the past if you care about someone. No one had ever worried about the younger him. Draco tucked away his smile, moving to his customary position against the wall. 

In hopes of distracting her from her tears he offered up his life, "I am feeling generous tonight, so you can ask me whatever you like." 

Hermione, tears still dotting her lashes raised an eyebrow at him. "You might regret that." 

Draco crossed his arms, leaning his head back eyes closed, and responded, "I know, but bizarre as it seems I trust you Granger." 

"Do you hate your father?" She murmured. 

Draco opened his eyes, searching within himself while staring at the ceiling. "More than I care to admit." 

Closing his eyes again he waited for her next question. 

The bed creaked as she shifted, "Do you hate your mother?" 

Draco flinched, hoping that she didn't see it in the dark. "My mother is the only person in my life to ever show me love, I couldn't hate her, even if I wanted to." 

"Did you ever want siblings?" 

"When I was young I did, but now?" He laughed mirthlessly, "I am glad I don't have to watch someone else break under the strain placed on me." 

"Do you ever..." Her question stopped as Trissa appeared, a large tray between her arms. 

Draco took the tray from her dismissing her with a nod, he set the tray down and handed her the bowl, tearing the bread into pieces for her to dip. 

She ate with a restrained fury . Draco watched her, until her last bite, verifying that she ate it all. 

"So, what were you going to ask me before Trissa arrived?" 

Hermione glared over at him, a finger curled over her lips as she finished her food. 

"Don't worry about it," she finally responded, "it's nothing." 

Draco smirked, "Come now, the Gryffindor princess not brave enough to ask a question when given free reign?"  
Hermione twisted her fingers together, pulling her legs up beneath her, still on the bed. "You should know by now I am not altogether brave." 

Draco searched her face, unsure of how to take her expression. "You are the bravest person I know. I don't know many other people who would face down a three-headed dog at eleven years old, or punch the local prat at thirteen, or even face down Death Eaters at seventeen. Bloody hell, you respond to torture about your best friend with non-answers and glares to a man who has terrified me for as long as I can remember. You may not think you are brave, but be assured, I do." 

Hermione looked up sharply, eyes boring into his. "I think that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me." 

Draco flushed, and looked away. "Nice is relative, and I have never been one to lie when I can help it." 

He could hear the smile in Hermione's voice when she responded, "I know, that is why I appreciate the compliment that much more." 

Draco's cheeks flamed hotter. "Whatever you say Granger." 

She laughed quietly. 

"Now what was the question?" 

She sobered, fingers fidgeting, "Do you ever imagine a life beyond this one? A life without...all this pain?" 

He kept quiet a long time, pondering her question. "I wish for one, but I never let myself dream of something that cannot be. It would hurt too much to wake up from such a pleasant dream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update, enjoy!


	7. Chapter 7

Lucius paced the library. He had sent Draco on a mission this morning, away from the manor and the girl. She kneeled before him, gaze boring straight through him. The Dark Lord grew impatient, Bellatrix's vault had been tampered with, a horcurx stolen, the thieves uncaught. He felt as if the answer could lie in the girl. Lucius had contracted the services of Snape. Being a potion's master, he created a draught of Veritaserum. 

He looked down at the girl, sneered, then continued his pattern over the carpet. That this mudblood dared to defy their mission, this girl who bested his son in everything, could continue to best him, it angered Lucius. 

Snape pushed open the library doors, his thin scowling face showing no more emotions than Lucius'. He stepped up to the girl, forcing her chin up. Her gaze connected with Snape’s and she spat in his face. Not breaking eye contact, or sparing time to clean his face Snape uncorked the potion single handedly and drained it down her throat. The girl sputtered and coughed, violently pulling away from Snape. 

"How long until it takes affect?" He questioned hungrily. 

"Only another minute or so," Snape replied in his slow way. 

The pair watched as Hermione sat back up, still battling small coughs. 

Lucius began to question her, Snape looking on, "Where is Harry Potter?" 

"I don't know where Harry Potter is," Hermione bit down between words, failing to hold them in. 

"What is the Order's plan?" An eerie glint appearing in his eyes. 

"The order plans to keep Harry safe until all the horcurxes have been found and destroyed," Hermione began to sob, realizing what Snape had given her. 

"Where is..." 

A commotion in the doorway pulled all gazes towards it. Bellatrix Lestrange strode through the door, hair springing out of control, a shrill laugh leaving her lips. 

"Oh good, you already have her ready for me! Crucio!" 

"Expelliamus!" 

"Bellatrix no!" 

The men’s cries were too late. 

The crucio hit Hermione in the spine. A violent reaction occurred between the veritaserum and the cruciardus curse, sending Hermione into a seizure. 

Bellatrix threw a wandless curse at Snape, who held her wand. He flew back into an arm chair, mildly ruffled. 

Lucius spoke up before she could continue to throw curses. "Snape had just given her veritaserum. Truth potion Bellatrix. Do you know what happens when you torture someone who has taken a truth potion? They lose their minds, anything that the girl might have known about Harry Potter or the Order has been lost forever!" 

Lucius and Bellatrix began to yell, voices rising over the other to be heard. 

Bellatrix stormed from the library, Lucius close on her heels, when as an afterthought he called for Trissa to take the girl back to her room. 

 

Draco stumbled through his room, shedding clothes with each step. Dirt clung to every inch of his skin. After a luxuriating soak, and a scrub that he was sure removed a layer of skin with it, Draco dressed for bed. Only after crawling between the sheets, his body slowly sinking into sleep did he think of her. He thought of her soft laughter, and painful questions. He slipped into sleep, dreaming of her stubborn expression. 

Draco rose late, rushing through his morning routine only to find the library empty. He searched it twice before finding his father in the dining room, daily prophet spread before him as he ate leisurely. 

"Ah, Draco. Just in time, I need to inform you of a change of plan. The mudblood has become useless to us and will be disposed of soon. You have proved yourself well, the Dark Lord is pleased." 

Lucius did not once look up from the newspaper as he delivered the blow. 

"Disposed of? What happened?" Draco felt a heaving scream building in his chest. A sliver of pride wormed its way in when he knew none of his pain showed on his face. 

Lucius looked up now, a single raised eyebrow to convey his displeasure. "Bellatrix ruined a perfectly good truth serum by cursing the mudblood. She is useless now." 

Draco sat down at the table, a plate filled with morning delicacies appearing before him. He had to get Granger out of here, tonight. Draco's mind flashed through the stories his grandfather would tell him of destroying an enemy. 

"Little dragon, come and listen to the stories of your grandfather's brilliance. Now when I was a young lad, attempting to take over my father's fortune, there were many who tried to take it from me. Some tried to steal it, others attempted to cheat it from me but all of them failed. Those who would try and take what belonged to me would meet a face worse than death!" Draco, being only four, would gasp. His grandfather would laugh, his belly rolling with each bellow. 

"How would you do it Grandfather?" Draco questioned hungry for the answer. 

"I would dose them with veritaserum," Draco would scrunch up his nose in confusion, "truth potion, little dragon. Normally a drop or two in a drink we shared as they tried to swindle me. Then after I had loosened his tongue and discovered all of his plans against me, we would walk through a dark wooded place and I would curse him!" Grandfather always popped forward with the word curse, scaring young Draco into jumping and squealing. "Once I cursed him, the crudiardes always worked best mind you, I would leave them to wander the woods. Only some would make it out of the woods, those that did were never the same. Lost, confused, and most importantly, they never remembered anything. Always dumber than a box of rocks they were." 

Draco freed himself from the memory, stomach churning. He ate a piece of toast quickly, dismissing himself from the table without as much as a glance towards his father. Draco stumbled to his room, the vague notion of a plan swirling in his head. He pulled a trunk from his closet, stuffing if full of clothes and money that he had squirreled away. Pausing, a thought of what Granger would need flashed through his mind and he doubled the amount of clothes in the trunk. Anything that didn't fit her, he could transfigure. In a moment of unexplained need, Draco dug out his little wooden dragon, packing it away with the clothes. He transfigured the large trunk into a small suitcase, sliding it beneath his bed as he headed for the kitchens. 

The large kitchen echoed as Draco stepped into it. No house elves bustled around, cooking or cleaning. Opening the large food cabinet began filling a large sack he had found lying on the counter. Taking simple foods that wouldn't spoil he filled the bag to its brim before transfiguring it down into pocket size. Taking one last look around the kitchen he mentally said goodbye. Going to the library he pulled his six favorite books, carrying them awkwardly back to his room. He transfigured them down in size until they would sit comfortable in the small backpack he had fished from the back of his closet. Beside the books he placed the food. He filled the rest of the space with extra coins. 

He had been planning an escape since he was nine, had started to collect his allowance then too. He knew the best routes from the manor to the apparition zone. He knew at least six different places he could hide until he would leave the country. Granger changed things. He hadn't seen her yet. If she was as incapacitated as he had been led to believe then she would not be safe at any of the places he had previously scouted out. Rubbing a fist to his forehead Draco scrambled, if he didn't get a plan soon then they would never make it. 

A knock at the door had Draco shoving his backpack beneath the bed with the trunk. 

Nausicaa opened the door, nearly timid. She strode across the room, seating herself an armchair, motioning for Draco to join her in the opposite chair. He sat, blank mask falling into place as she studied him. 

"Your father was not always a bad man. Once he was a young man of ideal, of high moral standing." She paused, "He is no longer that man. I see much of the good I saw in him in you. I know that you will be great, greater than Lucius ever could have been." She stood now, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket that she laid on the table as she continued. "Know always, that I am proud of the man you are becoming, and that I will always support you in choosing a life different from your fathers." 

She leaned over the coffee table, placed a motherly kiss on his brow and left the room. He stared after her a few seconds before tentatively picking up the paper she had left him. Three lines, the first two were an address, the last line was a note 'take Trissa with you." 

Draco felt tears well up in his eyes; his mother loved him and had known that he would need a safe place to hide Granger. He had no plans beyond escape. Draco pulled out the trunk, resizing it to verify he had everything he needed. He double checked the backpack, watching the sun go down, waiting for the right time to retrieve Granger. 

Darkness finally fell, and Draco loaded up. Backpack on his back, trunk in hand, and his mother's note in his pocket he called for Trissa. 

"We are leaving, tonight. Pack anything you will need and meet Granger and myself at the edge of the property. You have twenty minutes." He strode past her as she disappeared with a crack. 

He cleared the two floors between himself and Granger in record time, knocking gently before pushing his way inside. She sat in her customary corner, rocking back and forth. The sight tugged at his heart. The brightest witch of an age reduced to this, because of him. He placed the trunk down, kneeling before her. 

"Granger." 

No response. 

"Granger," he reached out and touched her knee. 

Her rocking only increased. 

"Hermione?" He tried. 

She stopped, looking up at him through a nest of unruly hair, smiling.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco felt a sob building in his chest, the brilliance that normally emanated from Granger had disappeared. It left in its wake a simplistic smile and a vacant expression. Rage followed the sob, chasing it round and round. This was his fault. 

Kneeling before her, he grasped her hand gently when she offered it to him. 

"We're leaving?" 

He looked up at her, her question shocking him. 

"Yes, we are leaving," he replied. "I need you to be as quiet as possible though. Can you do that?" 

Her face perked up, she covered her mouth with a hand. She whispered from behind it, "I can be very quiet." 

Draco's heart clenched, but he gave a light smile. "Come on." 

Holding onto her hand he stood, pulling her up. Once she stood with him he picked up the trunk and leaving the room. They started down the stairs, reaching the landing of the third floor without a problem. They paused on the landing of the second floor once they heard voices from behind the closed landing door. 

"Where has that boy gone now?" The scowl in Lucius' voice made Draco shiver. 

They stood, frozen while waiting for a response. 

Nausicaa's voice floated through the door, "Your son has taken with a fever. I have already sent him to bed for the night," her voice took on a harsh tone, "He is not to be disturbed." 

Lucius scoffed, a scuffling sound reached his ears. Rage curled in his belly, his father had been known to lash out when angry. Heat splashed his cheeks when he heard a throaty laugh from both of his parents. He pulled Hermione along down the last flight of stairs. They stepped onto the manicured lawn, the moon pulling from behind the trees. Draco cast a last glance at the manor, random window lit from within. He said his goodbyes and hurried along to the wooded area. 

A tight hand on Hermione's he looked back at her, she had not said a word since before leaving the room. Her eyes were wide, drifting slowly. She caught his gaze and split into a brilliant grin before her eyebrows pulled together and she lifted a single finger to her lips. Draco nodded once sharply, returning to moving through the wooded area until he found the edge of the property. Trissa had already arrived, a small knapsack slung over her thin body. She stood up sharply when Draco entered the glade. He pulled the address his mother had given to him from his pocket. 

"I need you to take us here," Draco read off the address, then nodding when Trissa asked for permission to grab his pant leg, she also grabbed Hermione's leg and together they disappeared with a crack. Draco swore when his face, elbow, and ankle slammed into the ground and Granger fell on top of him. The trunk had landed beneath him, perilously close to his groin. 

"Granger, get off of me," he growled. 

When nothing happened, he called Trissa over. "Get her off of me." 

"Of course, young master. Miss Granger, you needs to be getting off of the young master now." 

Granger finally moved, her feet coming close to his head as she stood. Draco caught a whiff of her socks, recoiling in disgust. He mentally calculated how long Granger had been trapped in his house without a shower and shuddered. 

"Trissa, get her showered. I will leave some clothes you can change her into outside the bathroom door." Draco pushed himself up; taking a quick look around the safe house his mother had sent him to. They had landed in a tiny kitchen, to the side an eat-in dining room. To the opposite side Draco found an equally small living room, a large couch dominating one wall. Through the living room Trissa lead Granger down a short hallway that held only three doors. Trissa took opened the closest one, leading Hermione inside. 

Standing, Draco placed the trunk on the table, returning it to its original size. Opening it he pulled what he needed, mainly clothes that could be transfigured and a robe. Folding them neatly he left them outside the bathroom door before returning to the kitchen. He closed the trunk with a clack and began to search the cupboards. Every door he opened held a surprise, one cabinet held food while another held dishes. 

Loud noises from the bathroom drew his attention away from the cupboards. Hermione skipped into the room, bed clothes covered with his robe. Trissa followed behind, drenched. 

"She would not let Trissa wash her hair sir. Would not. Would not. Would not!" 

Draco cut her off, "Go and get me what I need, I will wash her hair. Then clean the bathroom Trissa." 

Hermione grinned at him; face as dirty as an urchin. Draco grabbed a kitchen chair, placing it up against the sink. 

"Sit down." 

She did as requested and stared at Hermione thinking of how to go about this. Trissa deposited bottles of soap as well as a few dry towels on the counter before leaving to clean the bathroom. 

He looked it all over, "Now how am I going to do this?" 

Hermione piped up, "Like you are supposed to." 

He lifted an eyebrow at her, looking down at her. 

"Alright, I suppose we should get to it then." 

Draco had her lean back, wetting her hair, lathering it and rinsing as the instructions on the bottles said to do. As he was rinsing her hair he heard Hermione humming. 

"What is that song?" 

"My favorite one!" 

"What is it called?" 

Her eyes took on a faraway look as he applied the second bottle to her hair. 

"My favorite."   
Draco rinsed her hair again, before wetting a rag and washing her face, before having her sit up so he could dry her hair. 

"Trissa." 

She appeared with a crack. 

"Clean up the kitchen and make some food for us." 

Draco missed any response she might have given as he ushered Hermione down the hall. Draco checked both rooms before deciding on housing Granger in the larger of the two. Pulling back the sheets of the large bed, he helped her sit. Hermione quickly adjusted herself sitting with her back to the head board. 

"Story time?" She questioned hopefully. 

Draco rolled his eyes, even like this Granger was still Granger. He glanced around the room, finding a small bookshelf that he pulled the Tales of Beetle and Bard. Draco fingered the well-worn pages until he found a familiar name, his own, if fact. The sloppy script must have come when he was first learning to write. A powerful emotion swept through him, unidentifiable. Pushing it away Draco settled onto the bed, a fair amount of space between them. 

Hermione wiggled her way closer, her head lying gently across his shoulder. Draco winced at the stab to his heart he refused to examine and began to read. He read to her until her head slipped from his shoulder, instead curling down onto her pillow. Draco pulled the blankets up over her shoulders, leaving the door cracked as he left the room. Draco collapsed into the couch, head dropping back, arm covering his face. 

Something internally shifted, the box of emotions he normally kept locked shut sprang open. Tears leaked down his face, sobs wrenching his chest. He curled down into a ball, knees hanging off the end of the couch. Draco sobbed for hours, every emotion he had ever pushed away forcing its way through his body. A simple clock on the wall read one o'clock when Hermione screamed. Draco rushed up, tripping over the small coffee table. She continued to scream, as he slipped down the hall, bursting into her room. Wand out, he searched for a culprit. Finding nothing unusual he moved to Hermione's side. 

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, Hermione's face buried in her hands. 

"Hermione?" He questioned softly. 

She looked up sharply, before throwing herself into his arms. She nearly knocked them onto the floor; Draco got a foot underneath him and pushed himself back onto the bed. She sobbed herself out within a few minutes, pulling back to look at him. Her dark eyes widened, hands fluttering to his face. 

"Why are you crying?" 

Her simple question alerted Draco to the fact he was still crying. Draco just shook his head, unable to speak. 

Hermione scooted over in the bed, patting the empty space gently. "You stay here so I can protect you." 

Draco went to stand up, but Hermione's grip on his arm was nearly bruising. She stared at him, almost trying to tell him something with her eyes. 

He sighed, "Fine." 

Hermione laid down, rolling towards him. Draco laid back, careful to keep his dirty shoes off the bedspread. They laid together in silence, post crying exhaustion creeping through Draco. As his eyes were drifting shut he thought to ask why she screamed. 

"The girl in my head wanted out, and it scared me." 

Draco's eyes slid shut, the strange answer forming dreams of an ever-extending hallway and Hermione being trapped behind the last door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a chapter, or two!


	9. Chapter 9

Draco woke to the smell of pancakes.  
Sitting up, he blinked. Unable to piece together where he was, he stood and moved to the door. Looking  
down he realized he still had his shoes on. Memories clicked back into place and he darted to the  
kitchen. Trissa stood on a chair, flipping pancakes. Hermione sat in the corner, eyes distant, body  
rocking back and forth. No matter what he did he could not get her to respond. He tried to get her to  
eat, to drink, to acknowledge him at all. Nothing worked. He tried every hour to get Hermione to break  
her thousand-yard stare.  
Darkness had fallen and he checked on her again, finding her asleep. Draco knelt, lifting her up. He  
carried her to the room she slept in the night before, but when he tried to lay her down she refused to  
let go of his neck. He sat down, Hermione curling herself into him instantly. Draco pulled up the blankets  
hoping that she would slip deeper into sleep soon and release the tight hold she had on his neck. She  
didn't. Draco woke with a stiff neck and an uncomfortable warmth across his check and lap.  
Moving his head slowly, he found Hermione still curled in his lap. Her bushy hair brushed his nose, he  
swatted at it. Draco gently maneuvered Hermione off of himself, aware of the sweat that caused his  
shirt to cling to his body. He stood, glancing at Hermione to verify that she still slept, before moving to  
his trunk and retrieving a new shirt. Removing the old one he dropped into the growing pile of dirty  
laundry.  
The gasp from behind him had him spinning. Hermione sat up, hair sticking wildly in every direction; her  
eyes were focused but not altogether clear.  
"You are hurt. I didn't keep you safe." Tears welled up in her eyes.  
Draco rushed forward, hitting his knees as she ducked her chin. "No, no, no. It wasn’t your fault  
Hermione, these are old scars, there was nothing you could do about them," he reassured her.  
She reached down gently; fingers brushing his dark mark, Draco did his best not to flinch. "Even this  
one?"  
"Yes, even that one." He covered her hand with his own, gently removing from his arm.  
Draco pulled on his discarded shirt, long sleeves covering his scars. He helped Hermione up off the bed.  
When she refused to let go of his hand he pulled her along to the kitchen, where he could smell  
breakfast waiting.  
The days took on a routine, a walk around the small, enclosed grounds followed breakfast on days  
Hermione would walk and talk, otherwise Draco moved her to the couch where he would read to her for  
hours. On good days she would sit for lunch and spin silly tales, then nap curled against Draco. Bad days  
found her beating her fists against his chest, unable to express her emotions, to speak or communicate  
her desires. Dinner and a bath would follow in quick succession. Draco would read to Hermione after  
Trissa helped her dress for bed. Every night he would stay after she had fallen asleep before retreating  
from the room. Without fail Hermione would wake up in a panic. Draco started to stay the nights with  
her because it was easier than waking up to screaming while on the couch.  
Two weeks into the new routine Draco sat up reading late into the night, research on how to cure  
Hermione of the problem his family had created for her. She gasped and her eyes shot open. She lay on  
her back, hands tucked in at her sides. Draco looked down at her, single eyebrow raised, waiting for her  
screams.  
"Draco? Where am I?" Her voice rasped as she questioned him. "We're not dead, right?"  
Confused at the clarity in her eyes and the depth of her question he responded. "We are in a safe house,  
why would you think we are dead?"  
"Because I feel trapped, and this is the first time I have escaped. I have tried for days to talk to you, but  
whenever I tried to open my mouth I can't get the words out." Tears leaked from her eyes, sliding down  
her face, "I am so scared Draco."  
He responded immediately, "You are still in there? I will get you out; I won't let you stay trapped in your  
own mind Hermione."  
Her eyes drifted closed as she spoke again, "Don't leave me okay? Just, for right now, don't leave me."

Two weeks passed without another hint of the real Hermione.  
A screech owl tapped at the tapped at the window during breakfast. Draco rose, opening the window.  
The bird hopped forward on the sill, offering its leg out. Hermione hummed quietly behind him. He  
opened the letter, eyes drifting over the page.  
**They have found you.**  
 **Run.**  
Draco dropped the letter, rushing from the kitchen. Even without a signature he knew that handwriting.  
He shouted over his shoulder as he did so, "Trissa get Hermione ready we need to leave."  
"Sir?" Came the response.  
Draco yelled back, already filling the trunks "Just do it!"  
When Draco came from the bedroom Hermione was dressed rocking back and forth in her chair staring  
at her breakfast. Draco resized the luggage, grabbed Hermione by the hand ready to flee the no longer  
safe space. The door flew inwards, and Draco took a spell to the chest. His head landed in Hermione’s  
bowl of milk, Draco watched horrified as a masked death eater entered the room. He moved forward,  
languid movements showing his confidence.  
He brushed a finger through Hermione's curls, a slow laugh echoing through the kitchen. Draco  
struggled to breath.  
"Ah little dragon, you tried so violently to leave the ground, but alas you cannot fly," he raised his wand;  
in it Draco could see his death.  
Hermione shot up, fist connecting beneath the mask. Draco stared at her, her eyes blazed, no mental  
cloud hung to her now. She snatched the wand from his fingers.  
"Dragons have also been known to breathe fire, Incendio."  
Fire spat from the end of the wand Hermione held drenching the death eater in red and oranges.  
Hermione threw the trunks onto of Draco before appirating to a front stoop. Draco could feel strong  
magic dissuading his gaze, crushing the air from his lungs. He could have sworn he saw Potter open the  
door before he passed out.

Harry opened the door. Refusing to believe what his eyes were telling him he stood in silence. Hermione  
kneeled before him, an unfamiliar wand in her hand, rocking back and forth a hand tightly clutching  
Malfoy's shirt. Malfoy breathed heavily, the weight of the wards trying to push away the unwanted  
person.  
"I swore I would protect him. I swore.' She looked up at him, eyes foggy, but voice commanding. "Now  
let him in Harry."  
Harry did as commanded, repeating the address for the Shell Cottage before hollering for Molly.  
Molly busted down the hallway, freezing when she saw Hermione and Malfoy on the porch. Things  
moved quickly after that, Draco Malfoy, unconscious from an unknown spell was locked in a room.  
Hermione became unresponsive except to cry when they pulled her hand from Malfoy's shirt. The order  
was called in, as many as could be spared from Hogwarts, and a small, mousey witch with medical magic  
training called in to examine Hermione, to verify her identity and hopefully explain why she is  
unresponsive.  
After a lengthy examination she gave her findings. "This girl is not well. She is not someone else under a  
potion or a imperio curse." She rubbed a hand across her face, folding her hands tight against her chest.  
"I heard of a case once, from an ancient witch, she said once they had a slew of bright witches and wizards admitted to St. Mungos with symptoms like this. Called it combination sickness, she did. Said in  
all her days as a doctor she had only seen a combining sickness twice until the rash that occurred leaving  
twelve unable to communicate, all trapped in their own minds." She looked up sharply, eyes finding  
Harry, "You said she spoke through, what did she say?"  
Harry rubbed a hand through his hair, "She said something about protecting him, and then told me to let  
him in. I didn't respond so she yelled at me, told me to let him in."  
"And how long have you thought she was dead?"  
Harry swallowed, "Two months. We thought she died when we were captured and taken into Malfoy  
Manor. Dobby died the same day."  
The mousy witched nodded once before continuing, "She been well taken care of, no bruises, she has  
been well nourished and mentally, although foggy is functioning well. I suggest you ask that boy she  
appeared with what happened. He is your best resource now to help her. Remember whatever else he is  
to you, he is important to her."  
The mousey witch relayed a few more guidelines for caring for Hermione then she nodded once to  
Arthur, who blind folded her and escorted her to the front door where she would apparate to anywhere  
but here.  
Harry sat, head in hands, his mind spinning. Looking up sharply Harry asked Molly a question.  
"Where is Hermione right now? Bloody hell has anyone told Ron?"  
"George is looking for him now, and I have her in the living room with Fred. I think right now you need to  
go upstairs and speak to the young Malfoy." Molly looked at him sharply, "Remember that losing your  
temper is not going to get the answers you need."  
Harry moved stiffly up the stairs. Unlocking the door, he opened it sharply. Malfoy was awake, knees  
pulled up as he sat beneath the window. His hair stood straight up in the back, his eyes slit open before  
closing again. Taking Molly's advice to heart Harry looked Malfoy over a bit closer, dark circles marred  
eyes, and calluses dotted his hands. Smudges of paint across his cuffs and the fraying of knees of his  
pants spoke of a life different than what he expected.  
"Enjoy what you see Potter?"  
Harry scoffed, "Not hardly."  
"Then you should stop staring."  
Harry shut the door, moving to sit on the bed facing Malfoy.  
"What happened Malfoy?"  
"Well the universe began, and that didn’t' sit well with anyone."  
"What happened with Hermione?"  
Malfoy flinched, "A lot has happened with Granger, nasty right cross that one."  
His eyes remained closed, elbows not moving from his knees.  
"What happened in the manor Malfoy? This is the last time I will ask politely."  
"Into torture now, are you Potter?" Draco sighed, running his hands through his hair before extending  
his arms once more. "What happened is Bellatrix revived her after the chandelier fell on her. I didn't  
know until I was put in charge of torturing her for information," his head moved back as he sighed. "I put  
it off long enough my father got involved; somehow I ended up in her room after that beating. She cried  
for me, I know she did after I left. She agreed to help me, I could torture, and all she asked is that when  
you came I would turn the other way. I tortured her for weeks under my father's direction, but someone  
must have gotten impatient because when I got back from a mission she was like she is now."  
Harry paused after Malfoy drifted into silence. "What about after that?"  
Malfoy closed his eyes, a hint of pain in his face. "I kept her safe, until I couldn't."  
They sat in silence for a long time. Harry stood, "Is there anything we need to know about her now?"  
Malfoy spoke slowly, "Only two things, she is still in there, and someone needs to stay with her through  
the night. She wakes up screaming if she is alone."  
Harry searched Malfoy's face once more. Finding nothing he left the room, letting the door shut quietly  
behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Molly bustled around the kitchen the next morning. Fred kept Hermione entertained, small toys from   
the shop sending her into a fit of giggles. Molly frowned, Hermione reminded of her children as toddlers.   
Harry had spent a great deal of time with the young Malfoy the day before, he only reported that   
Hermione was still there, and that she would need someone with her through the night. Molly herself   
had taken on the task. Many order members had been in and out of the house yesterday to check for   
themselves that Hermione still lived.   
George had not yet returned with Ron. Ron and Harry had been searching for the last horcrux when   
Harry had popped in to update Molly. The boys had promised to check in with her regularly   
after they thought Hermione had died. During his update Harry had opened the door to find his   
best friend still alive; he hadn't left the house since. A house elf appeared in the kitchen; Molly   
glanced over to see the elf that had come with Hermione.   
Hermione's laughter stopped. Molly turned to find her staring hard at the elf. "Where is Draco?"   
Molly's gaze sharpened on the girl, this was the first time she had spoken since arriving. Hermione   
searched the room, glancing between Fred's face and Molly's. When neither answered her question,   
Hermione burst into tears. Burying her head in her hands she let out a piercing wail of grief.  
"I killed him! I said I would protect him and I killed him!"   
She stopped abruptly, stood, and with tears running down her face she calmly walked from the room.   
Molly and Fred shared a look before racing after her. They followed her to the porch, the   
distant look on her face warning them that they would not find her responsive right now.   
Harry spent two days with Hermione on the porch, staring at the sea, as she mourned. She thought   
Malfoy was dead. Harry had not felt inclined to inform her that he was only down the hall. He hadn't   
known what to make of Malfoy. The snarky boy that had greeted him in the robe shop had   
morphed into a quiet man with sorrowful eyes. At least with Hermione he knew the reason for   
the change.   
Molly stuck a head through the back door. "Breakfast is ready in the kitchen. Our guest has been fed. It   
will only be you and Fred with Hermione today, everyone else has things to attend to today. Do try your   
best to get her to eat today."   
Harry felt a frown mar his face; no one else had told Hermione that Malfoy wasn't dead, all taking   
their cue from Harry as her best friend. Harry coaxed Hermione up off the stoop, she had only   
responded to Trissa's pleas yesterday to eat. She rose and followed without comment. After   
Harry settled her down at the table with a plate of toast he started to work on his own plate.   
The kitchen door opened and Harry left his plate as Ron appeared in the doorway, George right   
behind him.   
Harry nodded to George, "Fred is still asleep upstairs."   
Fred pushed open the door that had shut behind his brothers, rubbing his eyes. "I am still asleep but not   
upstairs."   
Harry snagged Ron as he began to rush forward towards Hermione. "She isn't the same Ron, something   
happened to her and we haven't been able to reach her yet. One more thing, don't mention Malfoy, he   
has been caring for her since we escaped Malfoy Manor and currently she thinks he is dead."   
"Our luck would never be as good as for Malfoy to keel over dead mate," Ron responded, eyes   
trained on Hermione who picked at her toast.   
Harry released his arm and he moved forward quickly. Ron sat in the chair next to her, hand resting on   
her arm.   
"Hermione, are you okay?"   
Hermione looked up at him, eyes blank, no recognition in her eyes or smile on her lips. She turned back   
to picking at her toast.   
Ron turned to him, "What happened to her?"   
"Best we could piece together, she is suffering from something called a combining sickness. We had a   
nurse from St. Mungo's out here to check her out." He lowered his voice, "Malfoy and I had a chat after they arrived, and he has cared for her since it happened. He said she is still in there.   
We just need to find what can trigger her return."   
Ron nearly shouted, "He is still here? Why haven't you gotten rid of Malfoy yet? Bloody hell!"   
Fred, George, and Harry began to respond when an intense wave of magic swept the room. Hermione   
rose, all eyes turning to her. An audible crack rent the air. The boys all jumped back.   
"Draco isn't dead?" The quiet words warred with the heat in her gaze.   
"Bastard deserves to be."   
Harry winced as the words slid from Ron's mouth. Harry backed up, Fred and George pushing the door   
open. The three tumbled from the kitchen as a loud crash echoed. They shared a look before all darting   
different directions. Harry burst through the door housing Malfoy.   
Malfoy lounged against the wall, legs crossed at the ankle, reading a book. He looked up at Harry,   
customary eyebrow raised.   
"She's awake and on a war path." Harry spun from the room, trusting Malfoy would follow.   
They thundered down the stairs, Fred and George only raised an eyebrow at Malfoy's appearance   
before passing two extendable ears to Harry. Harry eyed Malfoy before passing an ear to him. Without a   
word between them they inserted the ears to their own and listened to screaming.   
"How dare you say that Ronald! Do you remember what you did when you got scared? You RAN!   
Instead of staying to help you ventured off on your own. You have no right to throw stones at   
Draco for staying. If anything, you owe him an apology and a thank you. Without him I would   
have been dead twenty times over. He protected me at great cost to himself. Can you even   
comprehend how much he has lost by saving me?" A pause, "No, I doubt you would   
understand."   
The scraping of a hard against the floor then, "Hermione..." A quiet plea.   
"Get out of my sight Ron, if you try and talk to me anymore right now I might give into this violent urge I   
am feeling."   
The men pulled the extendable ears out of sight just in time for Ron to pass brusquely into the depths of   
the house. Hermione sat at the head of the table, her eyes passed over the doorway, stopping on Harry   
before she spoke his name. Harry gulped at this chill in her voice.   
Draco felt his heart leap to his throat as he caught his first sight of her. No fog clung to her now, only a   
simmering rage that cracked like fire. A flicker of pain shot through his gut when she did not spare him a   
glance, though he was glad when he felt a chill settle over him when she called Harry into the kitchen.   
The door shut behind him, Draco shared a look with the twins before listening to the conversation.   
Two beats of silence, then she spoke. "Why did you lie to me Harry?"   
"I didn't lie Hermione."   
"Yes, you did. You lied to me when you let me mourn for days over a man who gave up everything to   
save me. I am disappointed in you Harry. I never thought you would let your childish hatred for Draco   
blind you to the possibility of change in him."   
"He hasn't changed Hermione, he can't of. You know he nearly killed Dumbledore," Harry protested.   
"Are you the same boy who crawled out of a cupboard," She shot back.   
Draco swallowed hard, she wasn't pulling any punches.   
"No," Harry replied curtly.   
"Neither is Draco the man his father tried to shape him to be. A man who had grown to love the pain   
and suffering of others would not weep when he had to hurt another being." She stood up, "Think about   
it Harry, neither one of you was given a fair shake at life, the least you can do is not make it harder for   
each other."   
Draco ripped the extendable ear from his head as he heard Hermione's footsteps head towards the   
door, he tossed it to the twins as she opened the kitchen door. Draco caught the sight of Potter,   
leaning forward over the table. Hermione turned to the twins, an eyebrow raised.   
"Can I help you two?"   
"Nope," they replied in unison.   
Fred spoke first. "We just wanted to say we missed you," he laid as kiss across one cheek.   
George spoke next. "We missed having you to call our baby brother and the chosen one on their issues,"   
he laid a kiss across her other check.   
With that they turned and disappeared further into the house. Hermione reached back and without   
turning gripped Draco's hand tight. She pulled him behind her as she maneuvered through the house,   
until she found a small book room. Draco looked around, a small couch nestled between bursting   
bookshelves. Hermione sat down, her hand still holding his tight.   
Draco stood, confusion and uncertainty making him wary. Hermione stared at the carpet, her   
voice cracking as she spoke, "I wanted to say thank you, for saving me."   
He scoffed, "I didn't save you. I doomed you to a worse fate. I wouldn't be surprised if you hate me."   
Her fingers gripped tighter, "I also wanted to say thank you for caring for me for so long, for keeping me   
safe, and for even being kind to me. You didn't have to do that, I ruined your life."   
Draco sat down hard, shocked at her words. "You remember that?"   
"I remember some of it." A tinge of pink dusted her cheeks. "I am sorry about the sleeping arrangements   
though, that wasn't fair to you."   
Draco felt his own cheeks heat slightly. "I found it easier to get a full night of sleep that way."   
She laughed, "I bet you did."   
They sat in silence, fingers still intertwined. Draco had nearly fallen asleep when he heard her sniffling.   
Without thinking he pulled her close, running a hand down her hair as he whispered to her.   
"Shh, you're fine, just breathe."   
It wasn't until she started to speak that he realized they weren't at the safe house any more, that she   
knew what was happening. He stiffened.   
"No matter what anyone else says Draco, I think you are the bravest person I know."   
The simple compliment thawed his frozen muscles, and he held her as he had a hundred times before.


	11. Chapter 11

No one locked him back in the small room, though everyone stared at him with questioning   
eyes when he would enter a room. Draco focused on his book; if he didn't draw attention to   
himself they would eventually go away. This worked for three days, mostly because everyone   
was more concerned about Hermione and her recovery. Though at least once each of those   
three days she would catch his gaze, smile gently and then disappear. Draco would finish his   
chapter and follow. Always he found her in the small book room. Neither spoke for that hour,   
simply shared company as they had become accustomed to doing.   
The fourth day Hermione surprised him.   
"Would you read to me, like before?" She sat on the ground, her back against the couch.   
Draco, who had just stepped through the door, drifted slowly around the room, looking through   
the books until he found something they would both enjoy. He settled into the couch, crossing   
an ankle to his knee, and began the story.   
He read for their hour. Hermione had closed her eyes and sat still near his feet. They hadn't   
touched since she cried into his shirt, Draco didn't know if that was his choice or hers. He didn't   
know how to feel about it. He paused, looking down at her, unsure if she had fallen asleep.   
"Well, don't quit now Draco, finish the chapter at least," her lips smiled though her eyes   
remained closed.   
Neither of them had heard the door open during their exchange. They both jumped when   
Remus spoke.   
"Hermione, Molly is looking for you."   
Hermione stood, looking between Draco and Remus before sighing and leaving the room.   
Remus said nothing, only picking up an unused arm chair, positioning it directly before Draco.   
Neither man spoke, only sized the other up.   
"Hermione has always been for protecting the unfortunate," Remus began.  
"Are you saying I need protection?" Draco shot back.   
Remus looked bemused, "Are you saying you don't need protection?"   
Draco nodded and leaned back, accepting the point against him.   
"Why are you here Draco Malfoy?" Remus's face settled into a grim mask.   
"Here on this Earth? Well the universe does indeed like to play cruel tricks doesn't it," Draco   
smirked.   
"No, young Malfoy," Remus leaned forward, elbows on knees, "Why are you here, in this   
room?"   
Draco searched his face, no hint of emotion, or how to safely answer the question, he looked   
down at his lap, fingers fiddling with the book.   
"I read to her every day, when she was sick, every single day, the good ones and the bad ones. I   
would read to her after she painted the walls or after she hit me so hard it left bruises." Draco   
looked up now, "I missed reading to her."   
Draco felt odd, tightness in his throat at admitting that he missed something. Fear gripped him   
now, he never expressed his desires. When he did express his desires as a child his father   
always managed to take them away from him.   
"Your father wasn't always like that, evil and hateful, you know."   
Draco gripped the book so tight he thought his fingers might break. Eyes unseeing, he replied, "I   
don't want to talk about my father."   
Remus sat back, elbows on the wings, fingers joined on his chest. "Okay we won't talk about   
him. Let's talk about Hermione then. Do you love her?"   
Draco laughed hollowly, "Monsters don't deserve love, and I most definitely am a monster."  
Only when he saw Remus flinch did Draco remember the werewolf sickness that affected him.   
Remus looked at the ceiling, contemplative. "Why did you take care of her?"   
"When?"  
"Any time. I know your history with her. I had a friend, when we were young he would pick   
fights with this girl just so she would pay attention to him. He would rather feel her wrath than   
nothing."   
"Are you saying that I would pick fights with the Golden Trio just to talk to Granger?" Draco felt   
more than heard the chill in his voice.   
"I am simply proposing the idea that you have been protecting her for much longer than you   
realize." Remus sat up, eyes boring into Draco's, "What will you choose now? Will you struggle   
with the light or slink back to the darkness you have finally escaped?"   
Draco's eye began to twitch, his knee started to bounce. "I didn't know I could make that   
choice."  
"If you want any chance at a life filled with happiness you need to choose quickly. Things are   
speeding along faster than ever. In all honesty you have less than a week to make a choice. She   
knows where she stands. Do you?" Remus stood, and began to push the arm chair back to its   
previous home.   
Draco jumped up, "Why do you care? No one here trusts me; most hate me outright, so why do   
you care?"   
Remus studied the young man, chest heaving, eyes darting around as if waiting for a blow. "I   
have watched men twice your age struggle with evil for days instead of their whole lives and   
still lose. Any man who can grow up with the carnage of darkness marring every step and still   
find space in his soul for kindness for a woman he was taught to hate since the beginning,"   
Remus swallowed once, "Any man like that deserves the chance to make a choice."   
Remus stepped from the room, closing the door gently behind him. He moved down the dark   
hallways until arrive at the kitchen, he dropped a kiss on top of Tonks and Teddy's heads before   
settling in next to them.   
Tonks leaned over, whispering in his ear. "What did you say to him? Hermione has been pacing   
since she arrived."   
Remus pulled her close, speaking into her hair, "I told him that he has a choice. He thinks he is a   
monster." Remus gently rubbed a finger down Teddy's sleeping face, "The boy never had a   
chance to be anything but what his father wanted him to be. Despite that though, he has the   
choice now, I hope he makes the right one."   
Remus's arm snapped out as Hermione darted past, "He needs some time; the boys are   
gathered in the sitting room, why don’t you go join them?"   
Hermione frowned, but did as asked. In the living room she found the twins, Ron, and Harry.   
They all greeted her with a bit of hesitance. She moved and sat between Harry and George,   
joining their small game; after a few turns they had all warmed back up to her. They laughed   
together for a few hours before dinner was announced, Ron left the room immediately, Harry   
quick on his heels. She frowned, they were still angry with her. She joined them with dinner   
anyways.   
Hermione kept to herself, quietly eating her soup before excusing herself from the table. No   
one but Remus noticed as she floated from the room. Lost in her thoughts she found herself   
pushing open the door to the small book room.   
Immediately all thoughts dropped away as she found Draco sobbing into the couch. The body   
heaving cries sparked an ache in her chest as she rushed forward. She gently lifted him as she   
sat on the couch, pulling him close. Draco shifted easily, unaware of anything beyond the cries   
wracking his body. He curled into her, head on her shoulder, arms synching down on her waist,   
Hermione struggled with the hot, moist breath across her neck. She curled one arm around his   
back, the other finding his hair and softly stroking it.  
She whispered to him, "Shh, shh, you are okay. I'm here now. Shh."   
A long while passed like that, until the sobs slowed, then Draco coughed, hard, and the sobs got   
worse. Hermione switched the hand she moved, now rubbing slow circles on his back. She   
started to hum, simple songs from her childhood. She watched the light fade through the   
window. Hermione jerked as she found herself focused again. She had gotten lost in the   
humming and the repetitive motions of comforting Draco, until the silence in the room had   
pulled her back from her mental wanderings.   
He snored lightly, his breaths in making slightly more noise than his breaths out. Hermione   
stayed where she was despite her body aching from sitting still for so long. She stared at the   
top of his head, thoughts swirling. Reaching no conclusion, she slowly lifted him up, leveraging   
herself off the couch as she settled him onto the cushion.   
Stretching upwards Hermione grimaced at the sudden tug of her bladder. She moved to the   
door, stepping through leaving the door slightly ajar as to not wake Draco. She looked up from   
the door to find Ron striding down the hall glaring at her.   
"Are you still angry at me?" He queried, stepping closer to her.  
"Are you still being a prat?" She responded.   
His face reddened, "I don't like him Hermione. I hate that he saved you, and I hate that he is   
here."   
Hermione rubbed her face suddenly exhausted. "I am not asking you to like him Ron, I am   
simply asking you look beyond the petty hatred you have for each other. He is the reason I am   
alive right now."   
"Why do you keep defending him?" Ron pulled closer; in the dimness of the hallway she couldn’  
t see his expressions clearly.   
She searched his face before responding, "Do you remember the situation Harry was living in   
second year? How the Dursley’s trapped him all summer in his room? You and the twins saved  
him, freed him from his prison. Draco has been trapped a lot longer than a summer and his   
jailors were worse." Hermione swallowed down the lump of emotion in her throat, "No one   
came to save him Ron."   
Ron stared at her, face blank, eyes unfathomable, "You're in love with him."   
Hermione threw her hands up, "What?"  
His eyebrows pulled together, "I am in love with you."   
Hermione stared at the ground, "No you're not, and if you were do you really think the best   
time to tell me that is when you think I am in love with someone else?"  
A light curse left his mouth as the response hit its mark.   
"I am going to bed; I can't take much more of this tonight. I'll see you in the morning Ron."   
Hermione slipped past him.   
She walked the darkened hallway until reaching the bathroom just off the kitchen, relieving   
herself she then entered the kitchen. Surprised to find a light on she peeked around the   
cupboards, finding Remus seated at the table, a babbling Teddy in his lap.   
At the sound of the door, he looked up, a smile lifting his face when he saw her lurking.   
"Come in Hermione, I don't bite nearly as much as Teddy does." At hearing his name Teddy   
cooed.   
Hermione joined Remus at the table, fingers tapping a light pattern against the wood. They sat   
in a silence only broken by the baby.   
"Why are you up so late Remus?"   
"Tonks needed her sleep, so I am keeping Teddy company until he is ready to sleep as well." He   
looked up now, the raised eyebrow alerting her to the coming question. "Why are you up so   
late?"   
"Draco." Hermione stared at the table, tracing lines in the wood. "What did you say to him?"  
"I told him that he has an option that he doesn't have to be a monster like his father."   
Hermione flinched, memories of Lucious overlapping in sickening waves. "He is not his father."   
Remus did not react to the harshness in her voice, "I agree, but sometimes it takes someone   
else to remind you that you aren't the monster you thought. Where is he now?"   
"He is asleep in the book room; I came out to find a blanket for him before heading to bed   
myself."   
"Two doors down from the book room there should be a slim door that has some extra   
blankets." Remus stood, comforting Teddy who had begun to wail.   
Hermione rose as well, bidding him a good night which she doubted he heard over his son's   
cries. She pulled a large blanket from the closet, knowing that the book room would be chilly.   
She pushed open the door, grateful the hinges didn't squeak. Unfolding the blanket, she   
covered him. She let out a gasp as his hand suddenly grabbed her wrist.   
His eyes glazed with sleep stared at her, "Stay."   
She looked over the small couch, his lengthy body taking most of it. "There isn't much room for   
me."  
His grip loosened as he shifted pulling himself up onto the arm of the couch, leaving her nearly   
a full cushion.   
"Stay?" He questioned, eyes pleading.  
Hermione searched his face a moment before replying. "Of course, I will stay."


	12. Chapter 12

Draco woke; body stiff and legs uncomfortably warm. Pushing off the blanket that strangled him he sat up. Remus' words floated through his head, he had a choice. Now what would he choose? 

Draco found himself in the attic, staring at the grounds through a salt crusted window when he found his answer. Hermione lounged on the beach, book between her hands. The breath caught in this throat. He wanted a chance, even if it wasn't with her, just a chance to become a man better than he was destined to be, he would take it. He wished to be as good a man as she thought he was. 

Something small and tight blossomed in his chest. He walked quickly down the stairs, searching until he found Remus. Remus sat with Teddy in his lap, but otherwise he was alone; Draco quietly shut the door to the living room before sitting next to his former teacher. After a few moments of silence Draco began to talk, it took hours to get everything he needed to say out. At one-point Tonks retrieved Teddy, sighting a rest and a change of nappy for the interruption. She closed the door tightly behind her, sharing a nod with Remus before leaving. 

By the time everything finally spilled out Draco felt as if he had used the rest of his words for the year. After a moment Remus stood and turned to offer a hand to Draco. He reached up hesitantly, before taking it. Standing he froze when Remus gripped him in a tight hug. 

"You will be a great man Draco." 

Shocked Draco followed him from the room and into the kitchen, Molly sharply ignoring him as he ladled himself some soup. He seated himself between two red heads, eyes quietly searching the table for Hermione. Not finding her he focused back on his soup. Slowly the table emptied, and Draco pushed his bowl away, falling into sleep with his head pillowed on an arm. 

 

Hermione stepped into the kitchen, the small cluster of adults at one end of the table pulled her attention. She stepped close, confused about the conversation. 

"What is happening?" She questioned to Molly. 

Molly stared at Remus as she responded, a look of shock and mild alarm marring her face, "The Order is moving on Hogwarts in two days. Between the information Draco shared with Remus and the visions Harry has been having we have a chance at defeating him." 

Molly tore her gaze from Remus, vision landing on the too thin boy asleep at the table. Every tale her children had spun about him, every interaction with the family, warred against what she had seen since he arrived. It fought against the choice he had made to fight against the dark. Molly watched as Hermione gently woke him, the small bud of a smile on his lips before he shuffled off to bed. Molly stared after him long after the door swung shut. She did not trust him, but she would protect him. 

She turned to look at Hermione, her second daughter, deep in conversation with Remus, the tactical planning between them lighting both their faces. Tomorrow would be a busy day, moving everyone to Hogwarts, and taking it back from the evil that enshrouded it. 

Molly set Remus and Hermione who spoke at the table to the task of cleaning the cottage’s kitchen, despite her feelings about Charlie marrying Fleur she refused to leave them with a mess for housing the members of the Order. Molly scrubbed at a stubborn pot, focus broken when her youngest son started to yell. 

“…do you mean he is going with us?” Molly blinked hard and turned to stare at Ron. 

Hermione responded before Molly had a chance. 

“Of course Draco is coming with us Ron, this is his war too!” She tossed down the rag she had been using, “You are such a hypocrite sometimes Ronald. You want a chance to prove yourself but you never give that chance to others!” 

Hermione stormed from the room, Ron gaping afterwards her. 

Molly spoke up now, “Ron, come here.” 

She handed him the stubborn pot, pulling another for herself from the counter. They worked together in silence for a time. 

Ron began to speak, eyes trained on his pot. “I think I love her mum, and she isn’t in love with me, what am I supposed to do now?” 

Molly thought for a second, “You stay her friend. I think she fell in and out of love with you before you noticed her Ron. When you finally began to notice her she had moved on. It is going to hurt, but if you can put those feelings to the side and treat her like your best friend again you can save the relationship that you two have. I know how you feel about Draco.” 

Ron scoffed, the pain in her son’s face pulling at Molly’s heart. “I know you have never had a good time with him, but she sees something in him. She sees something more than we can, something worth fighting for. You know how Hermione gets about things like this. If it turns out badly at least you won’t have ruined your chance with her.” Molly looked at her son now, staring at him until he looked up at her. “Remember that she is going to make her own choices Ron, the best thing you can do is stay her friend through them.” She paused, kissed his brow gently and sent him to bed. 

 

Hermione woke early to the gentle breeze off the ocean. She found Remus and Tonks curled together in a single bed, retrieving Draco’s wand from the night stand she nodded to Remus as he slit his eyes open at her. She wound her way through the boys’ room; the twins had claimed the only bed in the room forcing Harry, Ron, and Draco to the floor. She noticed that a good meter separated Harry and Draco as she stepped over sleeping bodies to crouch by Draco. She lightly placed a hand on his chest. She found herself confused as she now stared up into his grey eyes, once her mind caught up with what happened she chuckled. 

“Do you always wake so violently?” she questioned. 

Draco flushed, pushing himself up, offering her a hand. 

“It is a reflex anymore.” 

Hermione felt the humor slide from her face as she caught his meaning. She lightly touched his arm, “Come with me.” 

Draco followed her as she wound her wait through the house, ignoring the sounds of everyone waking. They walked down to the beach where she slipped off her shoes and continued nearly to the freezing waves. She had Draco’s wand tucked up a sleeve, she stared at the horizon while she waited. Draco joined her; she pulled her gaze back slowly, the sight of Draco’s toes jarring her. The stood side by side, listening to the whistling wind for a time before Hermione slowly took his wand from her sleeve. She placed it in his hand before stepping away. 

She stopped when his hand seized down on her wrist. She turned back, eye brow raised in question. Draco stared down at the wand in his hand then back up at her. 

“Why?” No emotions leaked through his mask of indifference. 

Hermione looked up towards the house, people bustling in and out of the doors preparing for the siege they planned tonight. She pulled her wrist from his grasp, instead squeezing his hand once as she spoke. 

“Because,” she swallowed hard, “I see something in you that deserves a chance to grow.” 

Not breaking eye contact he responded, “And what if I run? Disappear and don’t come to fight?” 

She searched his eyes before answering, “That would be your choice then. And your choice is something I can respect.” 

“Can…” he paused, “Can you stay with me a little while longer?” 

A small smile flirted at the edge of her lips when his voice cracked. 

“Of course.” 

 

Ron stared down at them from the porch, arms crossed and a scowl marring his face. Harry joined him, noticing the hand that joined them. He placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. 

"Come on, you know we can't change her mind. The best thing we can do now is let it blow up in her face. Molly needs us; it is almost time to go." 

 

Draco stepped into the circle of people surrounding Remus as he explained what the next steps where. He hung back, staring at the back of Hermione's head. She shifted slightly, catching his eye with a nod. As the crowd dispersed to go about their duties Hermione hung back, standing still until she could join Draco. 

"I can't let you go looking like yourself." 

Draco snorted, "Yeah, because a known death eater showing up would be such a pleasant surprise." 

"Don't do that," Hermione replied vehemently. 

"Don't do what? Say the truth out loud?" Draco stated quietly. 

"If it wasn't your choice then you aren't a death eater." Hermione looked away, focusing on the horizon. 

"So, what are you going to do about my looks then?" Draco asked, not wanting to start a fight. 

"I have a few tricks up my sleeves." She focused on his face now, "Question is do you trust me?" 

Draco shared her gaze, not flickering and inch as he answered, "With my life." 

Hermione felt the bottom of her stomach drop away. To distract from the uncomfortable feeling, she started to layer spells across him. 

Draco stood still while she worked, memorizing her features. He would probably die today, and he wanted his last thought to be of her, just like this. Her lips pursed slightly, eyebrows creeping towards each other, brown eyes focused and hair twisting in the wind. His chest burned with the desire to lean forward slightly and place a light kiss on her forehead. He didn't though. 

Soon enough she finished, stepping back slightly she looked him over once. Smiling lightly, she spoke, "I think I am going to call you Vlad." 

Draco felt his lip curl, "You made me look Russian?" 

"I made you look different, but if you don't stop scowling like that everyone will know who you are regardless." 

He took her chiding in stride. "Come on princess, we have a war to wage." 

She tossed a comment over her shoulder as she walked towards Potter and Weasley, "Don't call me that. Come on Vlad, let's go." 

 

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and they shall not be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight." 

Voldemort's voice slithered through the great hall, chilling the air. 

Pansy's shrill cry rent the air. "There he is, someone grab him!" 

As one the student body turned toward the Slytherin, wands raised. 

McGonagall stared at the students, decisions flickering behind her eyes. "All of Slytherin house will be evacuated first, followed in succession by Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws. Those of you not from Slytherin who have come of age are welcome to stay and fight for Howgarts." 

"Well, now that just doesn't sound fair now does it Professor?" 

Hermione hissed to Draco as soon as she saw his haughty mask in place. The spells she had laid across him had slipped away sometime between entering the castle and following Harry to the Great Hall. "What are you doing?" 

He drew everyone's gaze with those words, unheeding the glares he continued. "Most of Slytherin has been fighting against the darkness longer than the first years have been alive. Would you deprive them a chance to fight, to disprove the hatred slammed down our throats since the moment the sorting hat left our heads?" 

Hermione watched, a growing horror eclipsing any other emotion. He was challenging McGonagall and in front of everyone. Draco moved forward, slowly closing the gap between them as he spoke, his voice echoing through the room. 

"Though I do agree that Pansy would be best evacuated with anyone underage."   
At that pronouncement Pansy huffed, spun and disappeared through a side door. 

"And who are you to make those decisions Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall intoned slowly. 

"Me? Who are you to make those decisions? You have failed to see the good in your students who wear green and silver for years. Now I am not paragon of goodness mind you." Hermione saw a sneer cross his face as he continued. "But with evil living in my house it has become transparently clear that I was wrong, and if you continue to push your bigotry onto helpless students then you are worse off than I am Professor." 

McGonagall stared at him, weathered face showing her age. They stood, only a few meters apart. Hermione forced her anxiety down as it bubbled up her throat; they were close enough that if McGonagall threw a spell Draco would have no chance to defend himself. 

After a moment of swelling silence, she spoke. "Well said Mr.," her eyes softened and she amended her statement, "Draco." 

Raising her voice to address everyone she continued, "All students who are of age are welcome to stay and defend their home. All underage students will be evacuated, Mr. Finch if you would please guide the students to safety?" 

Hermione watched as they shared a few words before parting ways. As he drew near Hermione questioned him about what she had said. 

Draco looked bewildered, "She said she was proud of me." 

Hermione let out a short laugh, "Come on." 

Hermione caught up to Weasley, who began yelling. Hermione yelled back and Draco kept quiet until they reached a decision. "We have something to do first," Hermione tossed over her shoulder as she started to run. Draco ran with them keeping pace until they ended up a boy's bathroom. 

Weasley turned to him, snarling. "You stay here. We will be back." 

Hermione shot him a smile before they both disappeared into a hole that appeared from one sink sliding open. Twenty minutes later they both climbed from the whole, drenched. Draco gave Hermione a look. 

"Don't ask. Let's go," She started off after Weasley. Draco followed 

"How does disappearing down a dark hole in a creepy bathroom equal a horcrux being destroyed?" 

She glanced back at him once as they rounded a corner. "You remember that basilisk from second year? Yeah, it was still down there. Harry used basilisk venom to destroy a horcrux before." 

She cut off as she caught sight of Potter. She rushed over to him, "The cup is destroyed. Did you find it?" 

"I might have an idea but we have to hurry." 

"Where are we headed?" Weasley questioned. 

"Room of Requirement, we are looking for the diadem," Potter started to push through the rushing students. 

Draco followed behind, hands in his pockets. Entering the Room of Requirement Draco began to search with the golden trio. All hell broke loose as he caught sight of Blaine along with Blaise and Goyle. Crabbe sent a Cruciatus curse past his head towards Potter. 

Blaine started to yell at him, " STOP! The Dark Lord wants him alive —" 

"So? I'm not killing him, am I? But if I can, I will, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what's the diff — ? It's that Mudblood! Avada Kedavra!" 

They all dove away the curse. Hermione returned fire with an expeliumus causing them to run. Ron chased after them hollering. Draco stayed feet planted on the floor as Hermione and Harry retrieved the diadem. He helped her down from the pile of junk. She turned to say something when she paused, a look crossing her face. 

Weasley came flashing by, screaming. "Goyle set the bloody place on fire!" 

They all raced after him. Draco looked back once, catching sight of Potter further behind. The roar of the fire sent him racing away and he found himself climbing to escape the flames. Circling the piled tower, he found himself shoulder to shoulder with Blaise. Flames licking at their feet, together they watched Goyle fall and be consumed by the fire. Draco swallowed hard, accepting of his coming death. 

 

Hermione raced behind the boys, eyes searching for Draco. When she caught sight of them she cried out. 

"We can't leave them!" Harry hollered, swinging wide to try and reach them. 

"He can't be serious!" Ron yelled to Hermione. 

She only sent a glare back to him, agreeing with Harry. 

They circled, reaching for the two boys. Missed. 

"If we die for them Harry, I'm gonna kill you!" Ron shouted as they circled again. 

Harry managed to snag Draco and Ron grabbed Blaise as they followed Hermione through the doors. Hermione cleared the doors and dismounted tossing the basilisk fang to Harry to destroy the diadem; Ron field kicked it through the still open doors as they slammed shut. 

Hermione breathed hard, lungs stinging slightly from the smoke clinging to her clothes. She only had a moment to breathe before a death eater strode around the corner firing spells off in quick succession. Hermione responded spell for spell until a shot of light from near her feet took him out. 

Glancing down she found Draco, a random wand clenched between his fingers. "Well go on then princess; don't you three have somewhere else you need to be?" 

He slowly pushed his way up, pupils dilated and uneven. "You need to get out of here Draco; you will be a prime target for anyone with a grudge." 

He shook his head hard, wincing. "Don't worry about me, just finish this." 

Draco turned so that she wouldn't hear his next words, "I don't expect to make it through the night." 

He strode away, already dueling his way down the hallway, echoing gasps lighting the way. He heard the quick argument from the trio. 

"Let the fool kill himself, what do I care?" Ron's voice echoed. 

Draco was too far away now to hear any response. Minutes stretched as he fought on, taking hit after hit until finally he escaped into unconsciousness. 

 

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured." 

Draco sat up, chest heaving. Looking around he found himself lined with other fallen. He rested next to Remus, an ache in his chest swelling at the sight of such a vibrant man paling under death's pallor. Looking upwards he found the Weasley mourning the loss of a son, Hermione stood some ways off, shoulders shaking. A hard cough had Hermione swinging around to stare at him through tear laden eyes. 

"You are supposed to be dead." 

Her whisper floated to him. Draco laid back, suddenly exhausted. "Yeah, I suppose I am." 

 

"Is Draco alive?" 

"Yes," Harry breathed back. 

Narcissa stood, "He is dead!" 

 

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as well every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before him, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together." 

The amplified voice of Voldemort echoed through the broken bits of still standing castle. Everyone rushed towards the court yard, streaming through any open avenue. Voldemort stood tall and proud, Harry's body on display between Hagrid's arms. 

McGonagall's scream echoed over the grounds, Bellatrix's mocking laugh following in quick succession. Minor scuffles erupted, ending with Neville wearing the sorting hat, a full body bind curse keeping him still. 

"Is that Draco, I see? Come here my boy, this rebellion is over now." 

Draco, suddenly alone as everyone standing near him stepped away; Draco stared into the face of evil, waves of emotions nearly drowning him until he found one strong enough to hold him through. He sent a vulgar hand sign followed by a wordless curse. 

Suddenly screaming and the twang of bows erupted from the back of the death eaters line, Draco watched as Longbottom pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the now burning sorting hat, killing the vile snake that haunted his dreams. Chaos erupted and Draco began to fire at the incoming wave of death eaters. He fought viciously, only pausing when his mother appeared before him. 

"Come, your father is dead. It is time to leave."


	13. Final Chapter

Hermione threaded the single drop pearl earning through her lobe. Two years had passed since the final battle of Hogwarts. Harry had defeated Voldemort, light had won. A frown crossed her face as she remembered the five days she had spent searching the rubble for Draco's body. He had fought, but in the whirl of battle she had lost sight of him. On the fifth morning Luna had found her and told her that she had seen Narcissa and Draco crossing the bridge away from the battle. Hermione let herself weep only one hour before turning her emotions to another endeavor. 

She visited her parents in Australia, restoring their memories. She urged them to stay in Australia, which they finally agreed to do. They loved their new home and the friendships they had made; though they did not agree until extracting a promise from Hermione to visit often. Hermione returned to England, heart heavy. She spent the summer with the Weasley's. They repaired the Burrow and she prepared to return to Hogwarts for her final year. 

She had thrown herself into her studies, and when she had returned to Hogwarts. She finally learned to stop searching for Draco among the students after Christmas break. She winced slightly as her mind wandered over that awful Christmas. She had apparted as close as she could to the Manor as she could. The freezing temperatures worked well to keep her mind from wandering too far. She nearly passed it when something drew her gaze up. 

Instead of the large, grand manor she expected she found only a burnt-out shell. That was the last time she had let herself cry of Draco Malfoy. She resigned herself to the fact he was never coming back in those months after Christmas. She threw herself deeper into her studies, with the boys having already entered the work force as aurors, she only saw Ginny when she searched hard enough through the library to remind her to eat. Hermione graduated with honors, with her parents flying in for the experience. Following graduation, she had accepted a job at the Ministry of Magic, accepting only a position she could justify by her scores. Finding a small, but cozy flat above George's store she had created a home for herself. 

Hermione looked herself over once in the mirror, no long did the wild haired child who had boarded the train to Hogwarts stare back at her. Well-nourished curls sat coiled on the back of her head, leaving her neck bare for the matching pearl necklace she had received from her parents at graduation. The slim deep forest green dress sat well across her frame. Hermione enjoyed that you could not tell the color of the dress was anything but black when she stood still. One last look over and she knew she was ready for the Ministry Banquet. 

Scooping up her clutch she neared the door as a knock sounded from it. Blinking she moved forward to open it, she was meeting the boys at the banquet; pulling the door open wide time stopped. Hermione felt nauseous and could feel a cold sweat breaking out across her back. Standing neatly in her heels she stood eye to eye with a startling pair of grey orbs. 

Blinking quickly, she slammed the door closed, walked to the kitchen and calmly poured herself a glass of water. When the knock came again, she gently placed the glass on the counter before moving back to the door. When she opened it this time he was still there, eyes a little more concerned than before. 

One side of his mouth quirked up as if he was trying to smile, "Hi princess." 

His voice was deeper than she remembered. 

"I told you not to call me that." She searched his face a moment more and then stepped away to allow him entry to her home. 

She studied him as he entered her space. He had always been thin, but now his frame spoke of strength as well. He had lost the pretensions hair slicking that she remembered messing with when she was sick. He spun slowly, gaze trailing over the room until his eyes met hers again. She didn't look away, only stared hard at him. Hermione could feel a sob rising in her throat and battled it down. She knew it was him, no one else knew he called her princess. 

The memory floated through her head, 'Why shouldn't I call you a princess? Everyone treats you like one.' Her quick-witted response followed, 'Everyone but you.' 'I have never been one to follow a crowd.' 

Hermione shook her head once, forcing her mind to the present. She refused to have the first word in this awkward conversation. 

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching forward. 

"You have a nice place here." 

"Thank you, I enjoy it." 

The exchange was short, tension oozing. 

"I wanted..." 

"I thought..." 

They both started and stuttered to a stop at the sound of the other speaking. Hermione waved an arm forward, signaling him to continue. She tucked her arms tight against her chest, trying to hold herself together. 

Draco swallowed hard, a look of worry passing over his face before he calmed it. 

"My father was killed, during the final battle. My mother found me, and together we fled. I set her up in the south of France, in a small village with other refuges. She likes it there." 

A seed of anger sprouted. "So, for the past two years you have been hiding in France and you couldn't so much send me a single owl to tell me you were alive?" 

Draco stepped closer, gaze heated, "It wasn't like that..." 

"How was it then?" Hermione cut in.  
"I was the enemy. Despite finally choosing a side I knew that most would happy rip me apart while the others watched and placed bets on how long it would take me to bleed out. It took months for word to reach us in France, longer still to verify that Voldemort was dead. I couldn't come back if he lived, and I couldn't leave my mother to come and find you if any doubt remained." 

Hermione searched his face, "You were both cleared of all blame, and pardoned on all accounts. You could have come back then." 

Draco's expression froze, and then cracked as he stumbled backwards into the couch. He folded, head in his hands. 

"What?" His question whispered to her ears. 

Her chest ached from the force she had used to keep her distance, seeing this news throw him she let herself move closer, but stopped at the opposite arm of the couch. She sat on it as she explained. 

"I got you both exonerated of all wrong doing. It wasn't hard honestly, between your actions of caring for me and your declaration during the final battle you were easy to clear. Your mother is the reason Harry was able to defeat Voldemort and Harry's testimony freed her of all charges. But I take it you didn't know that." 

Draco had yet to move as the news rained down on him. He had agonized over the decision to come to her, knowing that if he were caught he would be thrown into prison and the key thrown into the Thames. He looked up at Hermione. Concern marked her face. 

He leaned back, a weak laugh escaping. He covered his mouth with a hand for a moment before replying. "It is one of the reason's I stayed away for so long." 

Hermione pushed herself off the couch, grabbing a glass of water from the counter. She downed it in one drink. 

"I visited the manor." 

Draco flinched, "I sold the manor, about three months after we arrived in France." 

She nodded. "Seeing the manor burned to the ground is what confirmed to me that you were never coming back. I searched for you, after the battle. I searched for five days before Luna realized what I was doing and told me that she had seen you crossing the bridge with your mother." 

Draco's fingers twitched and his breathing sped up. She had searched for him? Was it possible...? 

A harsh laugh left her lips. "I hoped that you were alive and would contact me, but after a year passed I gave up hope and started to put your memory to rest. I even went too far as to get a date to the banquet! And now you show up, unbelievable." 

She placed the cup on the counter with a slam. A knock sounded at the door. Hermione snatched up her clutch from the counter where she had dropped it earlier and strode towards the door, the anger clear in her beautifully bare shoulders. Draco jumped up as her hand neared the doorknob. 

"I almost kissed you that day, on the bluffs." 

The words fell out of his mouth without his consent. 

She stilled, shoulders drooping slightly as the anger seeped from them. 

"I didn't, because I was scared, but I have regretted it ever since. I don't... all I am asking for is a chance to explain. If you never want to speak to me again after that I will disappear and you will never hear from me again." 

Hermione took a deep breath, before turning slightly. "I wish you would have kissed me Draco. If you are still here when I get back we can talk. If not," she shrugged. 

He nodded, throat tight. He stepped out of line of vision of the doorway, listening as Hermione greeted and left with her date. 

The next few hours of his life can only be described as torturous. He had always been good at waiting, it was necessary to survive in his home, but never had he had so much at stake before. He ran through calming techniques he had learned, slowly shuffling his way through the common areas of her flat. Small pictures dotted the wall, some moving, some not. He started when he found a small portrait of himself amidst the Weasleys, golden trio, and people he could only guess where her parents. The photo was of him; it looked like she had snapped it at Shell cottage. Draco sat reading in the photo, light streaming through the window artfully fell across the book in his lap. He looked happy. 

Draco jumped when Hermione spoke from behind him. 

"It is the only photo I have of you." 

Draco scrambled off the couch, looking her over. She fiddled with her earrings, slowly removing them while she watched him. He had not heard her come in. 

"I look happy there." He felt like a child caught sneaking sweets after bedtime. 

"I like to think that you were, on my bad days that is how I remembered you." She reached down and slowly released the strap of her towering heels. Her gaze slipped from his as she focused on the tiny clasp. "You said you wanted to explain, you might as well start explaining." 

Draco took a deep breath and got distracted when Hermione sighed as her feet landed on the floor. This was going to be a hard explanation if she kept doing things like that. 

Hermione stared at Draco; he looked like he had swallowed a frog. She raised a single eyebrow at him. He blinked hard, tightened his fists and began. 

"I've been seeing someone." 

Hermione felt her other eyebrow creep up to reside with the first. 

He stuttered once he realized what he had said, a blush crept through his cheeks. "He is therapist." 

Draco ran a hand through his hair before continuing, the blush in his cheeks mellowing. "Remus once told me that I deserved a chance to be happy. While I was getting Mother set up in her new home I found an ad for therapy group for children who were abused. It took me weeks to work up the courage to go. When I finally went I found people who could talk about their issues, some of them were worse than mine. I ended up setting up personal appointments and saw him for about a year before he decided that I had come as far as I could with him. He actually reminded me of Remus a lot. Therapy is another reason I stayed away as long as I did. I wanted to learn how to be happy," Draco sat on the arm of the couch. "I wanted to see if it was even possible." 

Hermione felt her fingers fidgeting; she put them to work pulling out the pins in her hair. 

"And, can you be happy?" She watched him from the corner of her eye. 

A small appeared on his face, and Hermione felt the anger that had lived in her chest all night crack open and fade away. 

"Yeah, I can. And once I realized that I knew I needed to find you." 

"Why is that?" 

He looked up at her now, a bright warm smile that sent needles through her chest. 

"I told myself that if I could ever be happy on my own that I could be happier with you." 

Hermione ran from the room, slamming the door of her bedroom as tears streamed down her face. She heard her name quietly being spoken from beyond the door. She called out for ten minutes, she just needed ten minutes. When she could only hear silence beyond the door she let her tears out. After a good five minutes of sobbing she rose, hung her dress and washed her face free of makeup. She spent the next few minutes sorting out her feelings while she dressed, before finally she opened the door. 

Hermione stepped out of her room, and into the living room. Her fluffy socks muffled the sound and she slowly worked her way around the couch to Draco, elbow on knees, hands clasped, and eyes shut tight. She kneeled in front of him; he looked like he was in agony. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. 

His eyes shot open. He looked down at her, silver eyes full of questions. 

She smiled up at him, "Would you like to share a cup of tea with me? I think we have a lot to talk about." 

He smiled in return, "Absolutely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And that's all she wrote folks! I truly love reading your comments, feel free to leave them. They make it easier to keep writing on those days where it gets hard. Thank you for all of your support and reading of this fanfiction, keep it up! You guys are great!


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